


the virtues in the verse

by Hirikka



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Ships It, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Idiots in Love, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Professor Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirikka/pseuds/Hirikka
Summary: Geralt needs somewhere safe to take Ciri for the winter—it is too late to make it to Kaer Morhen—so they try to seek sanctuary at Oxenfurt. Unfortunately, the chancellor insists they only offer sanctuary to faculty and their families.Jaskier hasn't seen Geralt since the dragon hunt, but perhaps this will be a way to make up for his past failings as a companion. They just need to get married, and Geralt and Ciri will be safe.Or, Jaskier and Geralt get fake married so that Geralt and Ciri can claim sanctuary at Oxenfurt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 764
Kudos: 1563





	1. Chapter 1

_Scholastic Sanctuary is a concept that has always existed in Oxenfurt, included in the founding documents of the school. Scholastic Sanctuary is offered to protect those within the school so that they are able to pursue knowledge and academic freedom without fear of retribution from restrictive governments or religious organizations. [...] During 1187, many elves took refuge in Oxenfurt to avoid the events that would later be called the “Great Cleansing.” Many elven writings and cultural artifacts are still housed in one of the school's libraries(1). There are several elven professors and staff members who continue to claim sanctuary to avoid persecution outside the walls of the academy. [...] Those who claim sanctuary within the academy walls are protected by the laws of the school as well as an ancient magic that is built into the very foundation of the school._

Vairmont Jonne, _Treatise on the Applications of Magic in Architecture_

_Beware of disappointments, as appearances deceive. Things are rarely like they seem to be._

Dandelion, _Half a century of poetry_

* * *

Jaskier is heading towards his favorite courtyard when he hears the commotion. The amount of shouting suggests that something very interesting might be happening, so he turns, heading in the direction of the fight. 

He is half expecting it to be students tussling over something—tensions had been running high, so fights weren’t exactly uncommon. Instead, he sees several faculty members clustered behind the chancellor,  Joannis Deckermann, who is shouting at someone who Jaskier couldn’t quite see over the crowd of students who have gathered to watch. Deckermann pauses for a moment, apparently listening to whoever it was he had been yelling at, and then he snarls: “We won’t risk our lives for some witcher’s brat.”

Jaskier feels his heart stop for a moment. (Witchers couldn’t have children, so a child surprise, perhaps?) He finally manages to shoulder his way through the crowd, and there he is: Geralt of Rivia. He looks  _ desperate.  _ His clothes are more tattered than usual; he is pale and drawn, and Jaskier doesn’t think he is imagining the way Geralt’s hand trembles on the shoulder of the small girl pressed into his side. Jaskier can’t see her face from his potion, but he recognizes the ash blonde hair.

“Please—” Geralt’s voice cracks over the word. “She needs to be somewhere safe. Whatever your option of witchers, Fiona—”

“No,”  Deckermann cuts him off, looking pleased with himself. “I don’t care about your reasons. Just get out of my city before I have the guards  _ escort  _ you out.”

Jaskier very purposefully does not think about the consequences of what he is about to do, as he steps forward and places a hand on his hip. “You are so late,” he says, aiming for something along the lines of exasperated and fond.

Geralt whips around to stare at him, wide-eyed and shocked. Jaskier might be a little pleased about the reaction, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that.

“Master Julian?”  Deckermann  asks, eyebrows raised. “Care to explain?”

“Of course.” Jaskier movs closer, winking at Geralt as he passes. “Geralt is my fiance. He’s staying with me for the winter term.”

“Fiance?”  Deckermann  sounds dubious.

“Of course!” Jaskier chirps, forcing a bright smile. “He was supposed to come earlier so we could stop by your office to make the formal announcement.” Jaskier couldn’t turn to look at Geralt without seeming suspicious, so he just has to pray that the man will go along with this for now.

Deckermann looks away from Jaskier to glower at the witcher. “Do you know what kind of trouble you are bringing to our door, Julian?” 

“Trouble?” Jaskier affects an air of innocence. “I don’t see why it should be any trouble. It’s not as though you have to make a grand announcement. Besides, scholastic sanctuary has always been offered to family members of staff and students in the past.”

Something in  Deckermann’s expression turns hopeful at that. “Yes. You’re right. Family. A fiancee is not technically family, Master Julian.”

Jaskier risks a glance back at Geralt—he can’t read the witcher’s expression, but while he is clearly tense, he hasn’t yet fled at Jaskier’s claims, so. Might as well go all in. 

“We  _ had _ been planning on a spring wedding,” Jaskier says wistfully. “But if you wish to be rigid about this, I suppose we’ll have to set a wedding date for, say, this weekend?”

“You’ll what?”  Deckermann gulps.

“Yes, I’m sure we can arrange that,” Jaskier says cheerfully. “Surely you won’t object to allowing them to stay in my rooms for the next few days while we prepare?”

Deckermann sputters but clearly can’t come up with a reasonable objection, so Jaskier turns away from him. The students who had been watching with rapt attention suddenly find themselves busy when Jaskier’s gaze lands on them. 

Jaskier walks back towards Geralt, feeling a bit as though he is walking towards his doom.

“Come on, I’ll show you to my rooms,” Jaskier says, not making eye contact.

“Jaskier,” Geralt starts, but Jaskier shakes his head.

“Not here.” 

Geralt still looks like he wants to speak, but the girl at his side gives a tug on his arm, and he nods, falling into step with Jaskier. Jaskier lets out a huff of relief and leads them towards the apartment he had been given when he had signed up to teach for the season. 

**

They are quiet as Jaskier leads them back to his rooms. Jaskier can  _ feel  _ Geralt watching him, although he doesn’t turn to see what expression might be gracing the witcher’s face. Now that the actual confrontation is over, Jaskier is realizing exactly how stupid he has been. Geralt had said he never wanted to see Jaskier again, had made it  _ very  _ clear how he felt. And now, here they are, and if this ruse was going to work, they would need to spend a lot of time together. 

Jaskier couldn’t help wondering why Geralt had chosen Oxenfurt of all places. Surely there was somewhere else he could have gone. He knows that it is entirely probable that there wasn’t; not many places would take in a witcher, especially now that rumors are circulating that Nilfgaard might be hunting them down (presumably in a quest to get information on Ciri, but with Fringilla in charge, it could be something much worse). He resents the fact that he feels  _ guilty  _ for offering to help, but there isn’t much he could do about it now. It wasn’t as if  Deckermann  would have allowed Geralt to stay if Jaskier hadn’t stepped up, so if Geralt has a problem, he can leave. 

Jaskier waves down one of the university servants as they pass, asking if he could have an extra pallet delivered to his room as well as water brought up for a bath. He will have to petition for a larger suite, now that he has a ‘family,’ but until then, he can clear out space in his small office for an extra bed. He tries to push back the wave of dread as he ushers Geralt and his child into his rooms and locks the door behind them. 

For a moment, they are all terribly silent. Jaskier can’t handle that for long though, so he springs back into action. “Are these all of your things?” He waves a hand at the packs slung over Geralt’s shoulders.

The child glances at Geralt who is gazing fixedly at the floor and doesn’t seem inclined to answer. “No, some of it is still with Roach.” She shifts nervously from foot to foot and then sticks her hand out. “I’m—” She looks to Geralt for confirmation, and he gives a small nod. “I’m Ciri. I, um. I use Fiona in public.”

Oh, but she is charming. Jaskier smiles and takes her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Ciri. I’m Jaskier.”

“Jaskier—” Geralt starts and then pauses, seeming at a loss for words.

Jaskier grits his teeth, trying not to give in to frustration at the fact that, even _now_ , Geralt can’t manage to say what he was thinking. 

“Do you want to go fetch the rest of your things?” Jaskier offers, giving him an out.

Geralt nods and turns to Fiona, kneeling in front of the girl. “I’ll be right back. You’ll be safe with Jaskier. I trust him.”

Geralt stands and leaves without looking back at Jaskier, as if what he had just said hasn’t made the very foundation tremble beneath Jaskier. Luckily several servants arrive at that moment, bringing in hot water for the bath and the extra bedding. Jaskier shows Ciri into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed and he is alone, he sinks to the floor and tries to keep from spiraling into a panic attack. He can feel the anxiety like something rising up in his chest, threatening to choke him.  _ Why  _ had he done this? Why does he keep opening himself up to getting his heart crushed. Who was going to thank him for it? Certainly not Geralt, who hates him so much he can’t even bear to look at him. 

A soft voice from the other room is his answer. Ciri is singing to herself, not loud enough for Jaskier to hear the words, but he recognizes the tune:  Queen Marienn and the Black Raven . With a deep breath, he hauls himself to his feet. She can be his reason. That will have to be enough for now. That child needs protection and safety, and he can give that to her. 

He heads over to his study and starts rearranging the furniture so that there will be enough room for the small pallet that the servants had brought up. Once that is done, he goes into his room and gathers up a few changes of clothes and the other things he will need; he’ll let Geralt and Ciri have his room with the larger bed and the fireplace—they look like they need it. 

Jaskier has settled down to write messages—to  Deckermann to formalize this arrangement, to the woman in charge of faculty housing to update his status and request a different set of rooms, and to a priestess of Melitele he knew in the city to see if she’d be willing to make the whole thing official—when a knock on the door announces that Geralt is back. 

Jaskier takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he is _helping_ , no matter how Geralt might feel about this, and goes to open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from "Poet" by Bastille  
> The Dandelion quote is from "Season of Storms" 
> 
> The concept of Scholastic Sanctuary is from His Dark Materials and I'm just going to keep borrowing it. 
> 
> I have the major events of the story planned but if you have any favorite things to see within the fake dating/married genre let me know! I would love extra ideas 💛
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt struggles with his feelings now that Jaskier is back in his life.

Geralt had hoped that by the time he made his way back to Jaskier’s rooms, he would have figured out what to say to the other man. He should have known better. As soon as the door opens and he is confronted with the familiar sight of Jaskier—combined with the much less familiar scent of anxiety and _sorrow_ —all his carefully formed thoughts flee him. 

“Got everything?” Jaskier asks, voice neutral.

Geralt nods. He isn’t sure what to say, if there even is anything he could say that could fix this. 

Jaskier sighs and ushers him into the room.

“You and Ciri can stay in my room for now. I’m going to request a larger space; there are ones meant for families that have two bedrooms—” Jaskier cuts himself off and abruptly turns and heads into another room. Geralt places his bags on the floor and trails after Jaskier. He isn’t sure if he’s welcome, but he can’t help himself. He wants to be close to Jaskier again. Wants the sense of safety and familiarity that he hadn’t allowed himself to appreciate until it was too late. 

“Want a drink?” Jaskier doesn’t look at him, but he places a second mug of wine on a small table before slumping into one of the two seats. 

Geralt sits across from him, taking a sip of the wine to buy himself a moment to think. 

“Do you actually want to do this?” Jaskier asks. 

Geralt looks up, startled, not entirely sure what Jaskier means. His confusion must have shown in his face—and the realization of how easy it still is for Jaskier to read him is just another reminder of what he’s lost.

“The whole”—Jaskier waves a hand as if to encompass both of them and the whole room—“marriage thing. It might be the only way for you to stay _here_ , but you don’t have to.”

“Can’t make it to Kaer Morhren this year,” Geralt says. “Not many other places that would give refuge to a witcher. No other options.”

Jaskier sighs again. Geralt curses himself for yet again saying the wrong thing; he doesn’t want Jaskier to think that he isn’t grateful for this.

“If...” Geralt forces himself to make the offer: “If you want me to go, I will. I don’t want to…” _force you_ , _make you uncomfortable_ is what he wants to say, but once again, he finds the words sticking in his throat.

Jaskier looks at him for a long moment, and for the first time, Geralt hopes that Jaskier _could_ read his feelings.

“I’m not going to make you go; I’d rather know that you and Cirilla are safe,” Jaskier says, and his voice is firm. “It is a little ridiculous for the chancellor to start enforcing the rules about families _now_ , but it’s not worth pushing the matter—no reason to make him think that I wasn’t telling the truth.”

“Hm.”

“So. I’ll send messages to deal with Deckermann and housing registrar. We’ll have to get documentation to make the whole thing look official. I know a priestess who I think would be willing to help. I’ll see if she has time to see us tomorrow.” Jaskier rises to his feet as he speaks, picking up several pieces of paper and folding them to send out. He seems uneasy, moving with a kind of nervous energy that Geralt has only ever seen him display before an important performance. 

Geralt takes a moment, watching Jaskier while the other man is distracted. “Thank you, Jaskier.” 

Jaskier doesn’t turn, but he does stop his anxious fidgeting and puts the papers down again.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come,” Geralt admits, hoping that Jaskier will understand exactly how much this means to him. “Thank you.”

Jaskier still hasn’t said anything, but he does turn around now. The sour anxiety smell from earlier has faded, although he still smells _sad._

Geralt knows that he needs to address the mountain, to apologize, but he’s not sure how. He didn’t expect his words to hurt Jaskier as much as they did, and he’s never had to fix a relationship that was so badly damaged before. He’s never _wanted_ to fix something as badly as he does this. He’s afraid of saying something wrong, of making it all worse. 

Before he can figure it out, Ciri emerges from the bathroom. She pads into the room, quiet and still so _afraid._

“Ah, good. Geralt, your turn—you look as though you haven’t bathed in months.” Jaskier shoos Geralt towards the bathroom, and he goes without complaint.

He pauses for a moment in the doorway, looking back to see Jaskier showing Ciri the collection of books in his rooms. Ciri smiles and seems to release some of the tension she’s been holding. She takes a book and goes to curl up in a chair in front of the fire, while Jaskier sits nearby and strums his lute. Geralt closes the door before they can catch him watching.

**

Geralt considers confronting Jaskier after Ciri is asleep, but when he leaves the room, the rest of the lights are off and Jaskier has retreated to his study. Geralt can hear Jaskier humming quietly and the scratching of a quill on parchment. He stands in the hall for several moments, trying to decide if he should interrupt Jaskier when the man is clearly working. He doesn’t want to become a nuisance—if Jaskier had wanted to see him again, he could have left the door open—so he takes a seat on the floor. He can’t _hear_ Jaskier from the bedroom; in there, he’s surrounded by the man’s scent, but it’s not _enough._ He drifts into a mediation to the familiar sounds of Jaskier working. 

A few hours later, after the light in Jaskier’s study has been extinguished, Geralt returns to his room. He climbs into the bed carefully to avoid disturbing Ciri; she’s sleeping soundly for the first time since he found her. Geralt focuses on the steady rhythm of her breaths and finally manages to drift into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for you comments so far—I am so glad people are enjoying the fic!  
> Thank you to genkitaco-blog and enderham for help with beta-ing!
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier reflects and makes plans.

Jaskier has stayed in this apartment every winter for years now; he knows the sounds it makes as it settles late at night. Knows which floorboards creak. He knows Geralt, as well, no matter how the witcher wants to deny it. He’s known him for years—familiar with all of his habits and quirks. Or, perhaps not _all_ —the things that Geralt said on the mountain made him doubt so many things that he thought he knew. Still, he knows enough to recognize that Geralt is walking towards his study. Jaskier waits, unsure of what he’ll say to Geralt now that Ciri is asleep and they would be assured privacy. Then, he hears a floorboard creek again: Geralt retreating from his door. Jaskier pauses in his playing for a moment and listens. The bedroom door doesn’t open again, so Geralt is still in the hallway. 

Jaskier huffs, unsure why he thought that Geralt would actually come to speak to him. He goes back to his composition, wondering vaguely if Geralt plans to stay in the hallway all night. After another half hour, Jaskier puts aside his work for the night. He can’t concentrate anyway, not with the knowledge that Geralt is so close, not when they have so many things they still need to discuss. Jaskier gets ready for bed, putting out the lamp and settling onto the pallet he had shoved against one wall. He listens. Everything is quiet and still for several long moments, and then there is movement in the hall. Geralt going back to the room, Jaskier guesses, as he hears the bedroom door creak open and then closed again. 

Jaskier wonders if Geralt feels the same comfort in his presence that Jaskier feels. Even with everything still unresolved between them, Jaskier feels more at ease knowing that Geralt is close, that he is safe. 

**

Jaskier wakes before Geralt. It is unusual but not surprising considering that Geralt hadn’t gone to sleep until after Jaskier had—and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in _weeks_ before arriving in Oxenfurt. Whatever had happened between the fall of Cintra and the pair's arrival at Oxenfurt had clearly not been easy on them. Jaskier dresses quickly and then pads out of the room. He knows exactly where to step to stay quiet. 

There’s a message waiting for him from the housing registrar: approval on his request for a larger place. Apparently several faculty members have chosen to leave Oxenfurt for their own holdings, so there are several choices. Jaskier considers waiting until Geralt wakes up, but he is feeling restless and nervous, so he scrawls out a quick note promising to be back shortly and heads out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. 

He heads out to the administrative offices for the Academy, enjoying the crisp early morning breeze. The streets are mostly empty except for staff preparing for the day, which he appreciates; he isn’t quite ready to speak to any of his colleagues yet, since he’s sure the news of his supposed engagement has already spread—academics are all terrible gossips—and he’s still feeling too raw to maintain any kind of pleasant demeanor. 

The letter provided by the housing registrar lists the available locations, so Jaskier sets off to take a look at them. He’ll need to find a staff member if he actually wants to go in, but he just wants to get a sense of the options, and he’s enjoying the quiet. He knows as soon as he sees it that the house at the edge of the island is going to be his. It is not the most convenient; Jaskier can see why other faculty members might not want it—it is about as far from the classrooms as you could get while remaining on the island—but it makes up for its poor location by having its own little barn and a small riding yard. Jaskier knows Geralt would appreciate that; the yard will give him space to keep up with his swordwork, and he’ll be able to keep Roach close. The house itself isn’t anything special, similar to those around it, but it will give them more space than his current apartment. aAnd this far back, it will likely be quieter than the houses closer to the main halls.

Jaskier still wanders by the other two locations on his way back, but as he expected, they don’t compare to the first. His final stop is to a small bakery, tucked between one of the libraries and the faculty of music building, where he purchases a large selection of baked goods before heading back to his apartment. 

Geralt is awake when Jaskier returns, standing in the kitchen and glowering at the kettle like it has personally offended him. Jaskier watches him for a moment, admiring the way the early morning sunlight illuminates his profile. Geralt turns to look at him, and Jaskier feels his breath catch. He’s _missed_ this, the ease of being with Geralt, the quiet early mornings when they could just _be._

“I brought breakfast,” Jaskier says, trying to keep his voice steady. He needs to stay focused on what is happening now. He can’t let himself get caught up in nostalgia for something that might not have been real in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm so glad people are enjoying 🌼  
> Short chapter this time but the next one should be up soon!  
> Thank you to genkitaco for beta-ing!
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made.

“Alright. So we need to figure out some rules. Details.” Jaskier sits down at the table across from him, already looking bright eyed and ready to face the day.

“Hm.” Geralt, on the other hand, is finding it hard to focus. His sleep had been restless—still on edge over the frantic journey to get here. The familiar pine and petrichor scent of Jaskier was both a blessing and a curse, the smell at once a familiar comfort and a painful reminder of the mistakes he’s made. He is painfully aware that he has yet to apologize for his actions, for driving the man away. And that his being here is likely an imposition on Jaskier. Admittedly, Geralt is not sure _exactly_ what Jaskier does with his free time in the winter, but a marriage will make any romances more challenging, if nothing else. Geralt can’t bear the thought of causing any more misery in Jaskier’s life.

“See? That.” Jaskier waves a hand. “That is not going to work. If we want this ruse to work, we’re going to need to talk.”

Geralt sighs, but Jaskier—as usual—is right. “Rules?” 

Jaskier nods. “You’re a private person, _obviously,_ so we shouldn’t have to be too blatant about our ‘romance,’ _but_ we’ll have to make some show of being married when we are out in public.” 

Geralt shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“Unfortunately, my colleagues here know me well enough to expect at least some form of public affection from me. I am sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Geralt growls. He doesn’t know how to admit that the idea of publicly being _with_ Jaskier in this way holds a certain appeal.

Jaskier gives him a rueful smile and drums his fingers on the table. “So, we can probably rule out anything too extreme, but—hand holding?”

“Hm?”

“Would you be alright with that? Hand holding if we are out together? Maybe a hug if we meet up in public at some point?”

Geralt pauses for a moment, not wanting to seem too eager. “Yes. That’s...fine.”

“Alright.” Jaskier sounds faintly amused, but he doesn’t push Geralt. “That’s probably good enough for now. We can always adjust if we need to. Now, we have to decide _the details_ of our deception: how long have we been together, who confessed their affections first—” Jaskier pauses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “—our _sex_ life.” 

“ _Jaskier_.” Geralt’s voice comes out strangled.

Jaskier snickers. “Yes, well. You know us bards—and scholars. Terribly nosy.”

Geralt tilts his head, considering the last few years prior to the mountain. “Beltane. Two years ago,” he says after a moment. He remembers the day well—an unusually welcoming town, Jaskier with a crown of flowers in his hair, bright and joyful and so happy to be with Geralt. That had been the day when Geralt had finally allowed himself to admit that what he felt for the bard was far beyond friendship. He hadn’t acted on it, of course, and he had sought out Yennefer the next month, desperate for a distraction. “You asked me on a date.”

“I asked you?” Jaskier has an odd expression on his face that Geralt can’t parse. 

“Hm,” Geralt agrees. “Makes more sense. You’re more emotional.” 

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Understanding my emotions doesn’t mean I have _more_ of them, you lug.”

Geralt frowns; he hadn’t meant it as an insult—his emotions were muted compared to Jaskier’s. He wasn’t entirely sure whether that was because of the mutations or because he just hadn’t ever learned to really understand what it was that he was feeling. “That’s what I meant,” Geralt grunts. “You would have known.” Would have known if he felt anything for the witcher. Would have known long before Geralt had figured out that he lo—liked the bard. And Jaskier had never given any indication that he felt that way. Which is not the _point_. 

“Fine.” Jaskier taps on the table again, a rhythmic sound that would have once put Geralt on edge but now soothes him. Gives him something to focus on past his swirling thoughts. “As for the engagement—I think you proposed? During midsummer, maybe?”

Geralt nods; it's a reasonable suggestion. The image hits him at once: himself, on one knee, asking Jaskier to marry him. Warm from the summer sun, with the sounds of joy all around them. 

“We separated in the fall, so that you could fetch Ciri. We planned to winter together and then have the handfasting ceremony in the spring.” 

“On Beltane,” Geralt suggests. It makes Jaskier grin, and Geralt feels warm all over.

“Oh! You are a secret romantic,” Jaskier chirps, looking delighted with the information.

“Hm,” Geralt says, rather than what he wants to say, which is something ridiculous, along the lines of ‘only for you.’ 

Jaskier is quiet for a moment, and Geralt allows himself to hope that they are finished with this excruciating exercise. 

“We should get rings. Soon probably,” Jaskier says. “Or, I don’t know if you would wear one before the handfasting—or after even. But I’d like one.” 

“It would be damaged when I fought,” Geralt says. “Could wear it on a chain.”

“That’s good.” Jaskier nods. “We can go to the market this afternoon—there’s a good jeweler in the city; she does excellent work. We can pick up anything you and Ciri need, as well. The only thing left then will be getting some kind of documentation. I’ll need to give the headmaster _something_ because it’s already going to seem odd that I didn’t mention an engagement before now.”

“Hm.”

“Which, unfortunately, means we’ll have to _get_ a marriage license.” Jaskier pauses for a moment. “We could also have the temple call the banns, but that slows things down, _and_ there’s always a chance that someone will come up with a reason why we shouldn’t wed. I can’t imagine any particular canonical impediments, but I’m not sure it's worth the risk.”

“The license then. If you think that’s safer,” Geralt says. He knows very little about any kind of marriage laws—it’s not something he thought he would ever have a reason to care about—so he’s content to trust Jaskier on this.

“I know a priestess of Melitele in the city who will be able to provide the license. ”

Geralt doesn’t respond. He had assumed that they would need to be officially married to secure the sanctuary. He doesn’t love the idea of Jaskier being forced into a binding contract, but Jaskier had offered, and Geralt is done trying to make his choices for him. 

“Well, anyway.” Jaskier’s voice is somewhat strained, and Geralt belatedly realizes that his silence might have been seen as unhappiness. “That’s something we can sort out come spring. Unless you want to come up with another plan?”

“No,” Geralt says, possibly too quickly. “No. This— There’s nowhere else we can go and be safe. This is the best plan we have.”

“Alright.” Jaskier stands, knocking his knuckles on the table. “Then I’m off to get ready, and then we’re going shopping.”

Geralt groans—he _hates_ shopping—and Jaskier chuckles as he leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter to celebrate that I finally have power (and internet!) again! I really meant to post this earlier but my house lost power Tuesday afternoon and we _just_ got it back.
> 
> Thank you to everyone commenting and leaving kudos! Your feedback means so much to me 🌼  
> And thank you to genkitaco for beta-ing!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping! Part One.

Geralt _hates_ cities. The academy isn’t as bad as Oxenfurt proper. At least there is a bit of space there, and the campus is mostly kept clean. The actual city is noisy and crowded—the market bustling with merchants and traders, townsfolk and students. Jaskier navigates it with the practiced ease that Geralt has always envied. Ciri is holding Jaskier’s hand to avoid being separated in the crowd, while Geralt hangs back slightly. He doesn’t think Nilfgaard has made it this far north, but he is still wary; a witcher with a child is bound to draw attention. 

Jaskier leads them into a tailor’s shop that’s down a slightly less crowded street. The shop itself is empty of people, and Geralt relaxes slightly as the door shuts and the sounds of the city fade. He looks around at the colorful bolts of fabric with a sense of dread. 

“Master Julian!” a cheerful voice calls. A moment later a young man appears behind the counter. “Back already?”

“Not for me this time, Aleksy.” Jaskier smiles and shakes the man’s hand. “I’m afraid that my dear Fiona—” he rests a hand on Ciri’s shoulder “—had to leave for Oxenfurt rather abruptly and doesn’t have much in the way of winter clothing. She could do with a few dresses and a new cloak. Perhaps a shirt and pair of trousers as well?” Jaskier looks to Ciri for confirmation and she nods tentatively. “Any colors she would like for the clothes, but something in a natural color for the cloak.”

Aleksy has been jotting down notes as Jaskier speaks and, Geralt notices, seems unfazed by Jaskier’s request to get Ciri trousers. 

“Good, good,” Aleksy mutters. “Let me fetch Reneta; she’ll take the girl’s measurements and discuss anything else she needs.” He disappears into the back room again. 

Jaskier turns to give Geralt an appraising look. “What clothes do you need?”

“I’m fine,” Geralt says. He doesn’t have much coin as it is—isn’t entirely sure how he is going to afford Ciri’s clothes. He won’t argue against buying her the things she needs, but he isn’t likely to find work until the spring, which means he can’t afford unnecessary luxuries

Jaskier gives him a _look._ It’s a look Geralt is extremely familiar with. It usually precedes Jaskier bullying Geralt into taking a bath and then going to some kind of event he doesn’t want to be at. 

“Fiona?” Jaskier calls, not taking his eyes off Geralt. “Does Geralt have any shirts without holes in them?”

Ciri considers this for a moment. “He mostly wore the armor, but I don’t think he does.”

Geralt can’t believe his own daughter would betray him like this. And oh, _that_ was a thought he would have to put aside until later. He hasn’t thought of Ciri as his _daughter_ before. 

“That’s what I thought.” Jaskier sniffs haughtily. “I can’t have my _husband_ traipsing about in rags, and you can’t wear your armor all the time; that would be ridiculous. Ah—” Aleksy returns with a woman. They look similar enough that Geralt guesses they are siblings. Jaskier turns his attention to them. “Aleksy, dear, while Reneta is looking after Fiona, would you take Geralt’s measurements?”

Aleksy nods, passing the sheet of paper to Reneta who leads Ciri into the back room, and pulls out a measuring tape.

“Step over here, sir,” Aleksy instructs, pointing to a smaller area with a door that can be closed for privacy. Geralt sighs but does as he is told. He will talk to Jaskier when they have a moment of privacy.

Aleksy is quick and efficient and either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Geralt is a witcher. They finish quickly and return to the main storefront. While they were gone, Jaskier had pulled out several bolts of fabric and placed them on the counter. Two are black and the other is a dark blue that Geralt eyes dubiously. 

“Aleksy—for Geralt’s things, make sure they aren’t restrictive—he needs to be able to move easily. And nothing too fancy; he’s likely to put whatever it is, no matter how fine, under armor so nothing too bulky,” Jaskier instructs. “Geralt, any other notes?”

“No.”

Aleksy nods amiably. “Alright. Everything should be ready at the end of the week. If you come in yourself on Saturday, Julian, I’ll have the new shipment of fabrics in from Poviss, if you want to take a look.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely!” Jaskier exclaims with a bright smile. Aleksy and Jaskier exchange a few more pleasantries before Aleksy excuses himself to his workroom. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, as soon as they are alone. “I can’t afford new clothes right now. Mine are fine.” He doesn’t like to admit it. It isn’t like he hasn’t run out of funds before when traveling with Jaskier; they each had times when they brought in more coin than the other, and had long since gotten past any discomfort in paying for the occasional room or meal. But _this_ is different. Geralt is already relying on Jaskier for room and board for the entire winter, and he doesn’t have any likely prospects for bringing in coin until the spring comes. There is a reason he and his brothers usually wintered in Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier, however, just looks at him as if he can’t figure out what the problem is. “I can pay for the clothes, Geralt; it’s fine.”

“It’s not _fine_ ,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier just rolls his eyes. “I was serious before: You are my _betrothed_ ; if you don’t have any decent clothes while I’m swanning about in a new doublet, people will think I’m an ass. Besides, I do get paid to teach here. I have enough coin for this, especially since I won’t—” He cut himself off. 

Geralt wants to ask _what_ he wouldn’t be doing. He also wants to argue more about the clothes, but he has to admit that Jaskier has a point. He can always pay Jaskier back, eventually—if nothing else, it will give him an excuse to see Jaskier again after this is all over. 

**

  
Jaskier sends Geralt to buy groceries while he and Ciri go to purchase the rings. Geralt had offered to come, but Jaskier and Ciri had given him matching expressions that made it _very_ clear that his aesthetic opinions wouldn’t be helpful. Geralt’s more than a little relieved; he’s been trying to avoid thinking too hard about the actual fact of marrying Jaskier, and he’s not sure he’s ready to look at rings. He focuses on practicalities. The things he’ll need. He uses some of his coin to purchase supplies to replenish his potions; while he isn’t likely to encounter monsters, he wants to be prepared in case any dangers come for Ciri. He’ll feel better once he’s well supplied, and it will be one less thing to worry about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos & comments and to my awesome beta genkitaco!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> * * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping! Part 2.

“What’s this?” Ciri asks.

Jaskier walks over to see. The jeweler is with another couple, so they’ve been sent to a corner where there are a few chairs for people to wait. Ciri is looking at a book with embossed flowers on the cover.

“Oh!” Jaskier perks up. “That, my dear, is a book on the language of flowers.”

“Language of flowers?”

Jaskier nods, leading Ciri over to the chairs and opening the book. “Yes, there’s a whole range of meanings for different flowers; it's quite popular in certain circles. There are, of course, all sorts of ones that mean love and friendship, but there are also ones that allow you to be quite rude.”

“You’d give someone flowers to be rude?” Ciri sounds dubious.

Jaskier chuckles. “I don’t imagine they are used as often, but yes.” 

Ciri considers this for a moment as she flicks through the pages of the book. “Are you getting flowers on the rings?”

Jaskier nods. “It’s traditional; usually flowers and an animal on the outside with a phrase on the inside.”

“Can I help pick?” Ciri asks. 

“Of course!” Jaskier smiles. “I’d love your input.”

After some discussion, they decide upon ivy, wallflowers, morning glories, and—because Jaskier can’t resist—dandelions. 

The jeweler seems somewhat baffled when Jaskier presents her with the ring sizes, instructions, and then asks that instead of one of the more traditional animals, he wants it to be a wolf. Ciri is delighted by the choice, and Jaskier knows that Geralt will be pleased as well. Or, as pleased as he could be under the circumstances. 

**

Geralt isn’t back by the time Jaskier and Ciri return to the rooms, which throws Jaskier slightly—he is not entirely sure how to act around Ciri without Geralt’s presence. He’s essentially claimed that she is his daughter, but he doesn’t imagine that he is even close to the kind of person Geralt would choose to help him raise a child. Although, Jaskier will admit he had never been able to picture Geralt as a father. He had suspected that Geralt’s efforts to avoid Ciri weren’t going to work, but he had thought Geralt might be able to outrun destiny until Ciri was a little older.

Once or twice, Jaskier had allowed his mind to wander to the idea of Geralt taking responsibility for his destiny, and in his imaginings, Jaskier had always been _part_ of the found family. He supposes, in a sense, that’s exactly what is happening. And that is a dangerous thought because this is only a temporary arrangement. 

It is going to require a delicate balance to survive this; Ciri deserves love and support and caring, but if he gets too close, too immersed in this mock family, it will destroy him when it ends. 

“Jaskier?” Ciri’s voice startles him from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“What’s going to happen now?”

“What do you mean?”

Ciri fiddles with a loose thread on her sleeve. “I mean, Geralt told me that we were going to try to find somewhere safe for the winter, but he didn’t say what was going to happen after that.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Before this... I knew exactly what my future looked like. Everything is different now, and I just… I don’t know what’s expected of me.”

Jaskier feels his heart break for this girl who has lost so much in such a short period of time. “My dear Ciri”—he has no _idea_ what Geralt plans to do, and he’s not sure admitting that will help, but he doesn’t want to lie to her either—“I’m not sure that any of us know exactly what will happen next. I can promise you that Geralt wants nothing more than to make sure you are safe and happy, and he will do everything in his considerable power to make that happen.”

Ciri seems to consider this for several long moments.

“What did you like to do, before?” Jaskier asks. He doesn’t want to bring up bad memories, but she needs to have something to do besides sit about all winter.

“I used to go and play in the city. And some of my lessons were interesting.”

Oh, that Jaskier can work with. “Did you have any favorite subjects? We _are_ in one of the greatest centers of learning on the continent.”

“I like poetry,” Ciri says, “and history as well. Grandmother said I ought to pay more attention to maths and politics, but they aren’t…” she trails off, seeming lost for words for a moment.

“Romantic?” Jaskier suggests.

“Yes!” Ciri agrees with a grin. “I like the stories of heroes and monsters.”

Jaskier chuckles. “Those were always my favorites, as well; why do you think I started following Geralt all those years ago?”

Ciri’s eyes widen. “Can you tell me stories? Grandmother wouldn’t let anyone talk about witchers, even though I didn’t know about the law of surprise or any of it. And well, Geralt doesn’t talk much.”

“No,” Jaskier agrees. “Trying to get information from him is like pulling teeth. I, however, would be delighted to tell you about Geralt’s— _our_ —adventures.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments & kudos! I am so glad everyone is enjoying the fic so far! The next chapter should be up soon :)  
> Thank you to my beta genkitaco!
> 
> If anyone is interested in beta reading another Gearskier fic - I just finished up a draft of a longer fic for the witcher big bang and I would love to have someone look through it for world/building & characterization consistency! If you are interested you can send me a message on tumblr or discord (Hirikka#8763) and I can give you the details 🌼
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> * * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving house

“Alright,” Jaskier says, clapping his hands together. “Who wants to check out our new house?”

“What?” Geralt’s eyes narrow.

Jaskier grins. “I set everything up with Housing; we have a  _ house  _ for the rest of the winter.”

“Hm.”

“I want to see!” Ciri chirps, ignoring Geralt’s dour mood. 

“Excellent,” Jaskier says as he passes Ciri her new cloak.

Geralt remains quiet as they leave the apartment. He waits until Ciri has skipped slightly ahead of them before he mutters: “You didn’t have to do this.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Really, Geralt. You're not the one sleeping on a pallet on the floor; I’m not making some kind of noble sacrifice by moving.”

Geralt immediately looks guilty at the reminder that he and Ciri have been using Jaskier’s bed. Jaskier feels a flash of viscous satisfaction to know that he’s not the only one suffering, but he puts that spite aside, as best he can. He can’t fault Geralt for a situation that Jaskier created. He  _ won’t _ do that, not when he knows exactly how much it hurts. 

“Right.” Jaskier claps his hands together. “Let’s go see the house.”

They are mostly quiet on the walk over, tension lingering in the air. Jaskier is frustrated; he wishes they could go back to the easy companionship they had before all of this. He knows that this palpable tension is only going to make things harder for Ciri, but he’s not sure how to fix it.

“Oh.” Geralt’s voice is low, but Jaskier hears him and looks back—catching the witcher’s pleased expression as he looks at the little house with its stable. 

“Come on, I haven’t actually been inside yet, but I have the key now,” Jaskier says. “If it looks good, we can start moving our things over—and bring Roach.”

They cross the little yard, and Jaskier unlocks the door, letting them inside. The lower floor is taken up by a large sitting room, a small dining area, the kitchen, and Jaskier's new favorite feature of the house: a bathing room with a large bathtub and its own fireplace for heating water. That alone makes the house worth the inconvenience of being slightly farther from the main buildings.

The upstairs is divided into two bedrooms and a smaller study. Jaskier pokes about in the largest bedroom, trying to figure out if he could comfortably fit a desk in the room so that they could turn the study into another bedroom. It shouldn’t be too difficult, and the trundle bed he found under the bed in the second room seemed to be a decent quality. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier calls, “you’ll need to do some rearranging up here.” 

Geralt crosses his arms. “I’m not doing all of your heavy lifting.” 

He sounds teasing, but Jaskier feels a pang of doubt—suddenly reminded of all the times that Geralt had griped about Jaskier not carrying his own weight. He had always thought  _ that  _ was teasing as well, but had it been? Or had the complaints been real? Part of the laundry list of things about Jaskier that Geralt had just barely tolerated. 

“Well, I hope you have a way to pay for our lavish lifestyle, when I throw out my back and can’t walk to any of the classes I’m supposed to teach,” Jaskier says, aiming for a teasing tone, but well aware he sounds more strained. Geralt gives him an odd look, so Jaskier turns to trot down the stairs to see what Ciri is doing. 

** 

Jaskier throws himself into packing when they return to his apartment, leaving Geralt and Ciri to their own devices. He doesn’t actually have much—some books that he leaves in the apartment when he travels, winter clothes, quite a few filled or half filled notebooks. He’s never spent more than the winter here, and he’s always needed to travel light. He supposes he can indulge more now, buy the kinds of things he wouldn’t normally bother with, if he had to travel with them or only have them a few months a year. He has not quite decided if he will stay at Oxenfurt full-time, now that he no longer has the prospect of a traveling companion, or if he will find another place to settle. The idea of staying still like that still feels foreign to him, but he doesn’t particularly like the idea of a whole season spent traveling alone.

Eventually he has to give up on stalling, moving his bags into the main room. Ciri is sitting alone by the fire.

“Where’s Geralt?”

“He went to get Roach,” Ciri says. “He should be back soon.”

Jaskier nods and sits down across from Ciri. 

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“What?”

Ciri shrugs. “You seemed upset earlier.”

Jaskier curses himself for being so obvious. He is so used to Geralt, who wouldn’t understand an emotional cue if it hit him in the face, that he forgot that Ciri has had court training—which involves learning how to pick up on subtle cues. 

“Nothing to worry about, my dear,” Jaskier says, trying to keep his tone even. “I was just distracted before.  Everything is fine .”

Ciri looks like she isn’t entirely sure if she believes him, but before she can say anything, the door opens and Geralt comes in. 

“Are you packed?” Geralt asks. 

“Yes! All set,” Jaskier chirps, thankful for the distraction. 

Geralt nods, reaching down to pick up one of Jaskier’s bags. “I rented a cart. We should be able to get all of this on one load.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blinks. He hadn’t thought Geralt would be willing to do that; he had expected to need to go and rent a horse and cart to move his stuff. “Thank you.”

“Hm.” Geralt picks up a second bag and heads back outside to start loading the cart. Jaskier picks up some stuff and follows him. As soon as he puts the bags down, he moves up to Roach who snorts and nudges at his shoulder.

“Hello darling,” Jaskier coos, scratching at her forehead. “I’ve missed you.” 

Roach snuffles at his shirt.

“She missed you, too,” Geralt says.

Jaskier looks up, surprised, but Geralt has already gone back inside to grab Jaskier’s last few boxes. 

“Well, Roach, this will be quite the winter,” Jaskier says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to GenkiTaco and acornsofthemind for beta-ing! 
> 
> I am so glad that people are enjoying this story! Your comments and kudos mean so much to me!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter 🌼


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding.

“You're not seriously planning to wear that today, are you?” Jaskier asks, leaning against the doorframe of Geralt’s room.

Geralt looks down at himself. He’s wearing his usual clothes—a black shirt with black pants. They don’t have any obvious stains or holes that he can see.

Jaskier snorts and walks into the room. “You must realize that’s not appropriate wedding garb, right?”

“Hm.” Geralt doesn’t want to admit that he hoped Jaskier would let him get away with wearing his normal clothes. Something about putting on more formal clothes makes this feel _real_ in an intangible way that he can’t understand himself, let alone explain to Jaskier. It doesn’t help that Jaskier looks even lovelier than usual: his new doublet is a vibrant blue with flowers embroidered in golden thread across the shoulders and down the front. Geralt can’t imagine that he will look like he _belongs_ with Jaskier, no matter what he wears.

Jaskier has gone to the wardrobe and is ruffling through it—not that there is much to look through. He turns back to Gealt holding the dark blue doublet he had bought. “Blue is a good color for a wedding,” Jaskier says. “It’s a more expensive dye, but not so extravagant that you will be terribly uncomfortable.”

Geralt sighs but takes the proffered garment. “Fine.”

“Good.” Jaskier offers him a small smile. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He leaves, closing the door behind him.

The doublet is sleeveless, which Geralt appreciates; the ones that Jaskier favors always seem like they would restrict his movement. This can be worn over an ordinary shirt, so he shrugs it on over the shirt he is already wearing. The pattern on the fabric is a rich, almost metallic blue, standing out against a black background. Geralt is happy to realize that it fits comfortably, and he doesn’t feel entirely out-of-place wearing it. It isn’t something he would have bought for himself, but he can admit that it looks good on him.

“Can I come in?” Ciri calls.

“Yes,” Geralt says.

Ciri opens the door and slips into the room, looking at Geralt appraisingly. “You look good!” she chirps.

“So do you,” Geralt says. She is wearing a pale green dress that makes her eyes look brighter than usual. He doesn’t know anything about women’s clothes, but she looks comfortable and happy, so he assumes it must be suitable.

“Thank you!” Ciri grins. “Can I do your hair?”

“What?”

“Can I braid it? So it looks nice for the wedding?” She holds up a length of ribbon in the same shade as the blue on the doublet, so this must have been planned.

“Alright,” Geralt agrees. He takes a seat on the bed, and Ciri hops up behind him, pulling his hair back.

“I don’t know any fancy braids,” Ciri admits. “But it will still look nice! Jaskier said he would teach me more complicated plaits later, if you don’t mind me practicing on you?”

Geralt hums in response, not quite sure how he feels about the prospect. It is nice to have Ciri close. To know that she trusts him enough to want to spend even more time with him, that she isn’t even slightly afraid of him. It is still a foreign feeling—even after almost twenty years traveling on-and-off with Jaskier, he is not used to humans trusting him.

“All done,” Ciri announces after a few more minutes.

Geralt stands and walks to the small mirror in his room. Ciri has twisted the ribbon all the way through his hair, and he doesn’t hate the way it looks. He thinks Jaskier will like it as well. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ciri grins. “Now come on, let’s get you married!”

**

Geralt follows Jaskier to the temple with a growing sense of trepidation. It has been a long time since he has felt this nervous, and it is a ridiculous feeling to have over a marriage that they were only entering into so that Geralt could keep Ciri safe. It only makes him feel more nervous that Jaskier has been quiet all morning. It feels wrong for Jaskier to be so subdued leading up to his wedding. Not that Geralt had ever thought about what Jaskier would be like if he were to get married.

The temple that Jaskier leads them to is on the smaller side, close to the edge of the city. Geralt knows that there is a larger temple at the heart of Oxenfurt, and he is more than a little grateful that Jaskier chose the smaller one. It is empty when they enter, quiet and peaceful, with a strong smell of incense. Their footsteps alert the priestess, who appears from another room. She is young, with big dark eyes that assess them each carefully.

“Hello Thalia!” Jaskier chirps, moving further into the room and flashing a warm smile.

“Julian,” her tone is faintly amused, “whatever will your parents say when they hear you had a child out of wedlock?” She smiles at Ciri, who ducks her head to hide a smile.

Jaskier sniffs in mock affront. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Ciri giggles, and Geralt is relieved to notice that the teasing has eased some of the anxiety out of Jaskier’s scent.

Thalia sighs. “They are going to find out about this; you know that, right, Julek?”

Jaskier waves a dismissive hand. “They can hardly be more disappointed in my choices than they already were. We’ve settled all of this long ago.”

“There is a difference between traveling with a witcher and marrying one,” Thalia points out. “But I certainly won’t stand in the way of your happiness.”

The anxiety spikes again but Jaskier keeps smiling, and nothing in his posture indicates that he is anything other than happy to be here.

Thalia steps forward, past Jaskier, and offers a hand to Geralt. “It is a pleasure to meet the man who intends to keep my cousin honest.”

Jaskier makes an outraged noise. “Thalia!”

“Thank you for helping us,” Geralt says. He tries to ignore how relieved he feels to learn that this is a cousin, rather than one of Jaskier’s flames. That it’s familial teasing rather than flirting.

Thalia gives him a genuine smile before turning to Ciri. “If you ever need anything, please let me know; I don’t imagine either of these fools know much about the needs of a young lady.”

“Thank you,” Ciri says.

“Now, let’s get on with this, shall we?” Thalia leads them over to the altar. The ceremony itself is not long; the handfasting is done with care, but Thalia doesn’t linger. Geralt wonders exactly what Jaskier told her, how much she knows.

“Do you have rings?” Thalia asks. Ciri nods and hands one to Jaskier.

Jaskier inhales shakily before he presses the ring against Geralts’ thumb and speaks: “With this ring, I thee wed—” he moves the ring to touch Geralt’s index finger “—and with my body, I thee honor.” He moves the ring a final time, sliding onto Geralt’s ring finger. Jaskier looks up at last, making eye contact. His heartbeat is steady, and the anxiety is gone, leaving only his normal pine and petrichor scent. “And with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. For better or worse, for fairer or fouler, to love and to cherish. I plight thee my troth.”

Geralt forces himself to break eye contact before he does something foolish, like kiss Jaskier before the ceremony is even done. He feels more than sees Ciri press the second ring into his hand. He can see that there is something inscribed on the inside, but he doesn’t have a chance to read it before Thalia is prompting him through the vows. The rest of the ceremony—only a few minutes longer—passes in a blur, and then they are being told to kiss, and Jaskier presses his lips against Geralt’s for a too-brief moment, and then it is over.

Jaskier squeezes his hand and gives Thalia the information she needs to provide a formal notice of the marriage. Geralt takes this time to study the ring on his finger. It is a silver band engraved with a wolf surrounded by twisting vines and flowers.

“Do you like it?” Ciri asks.

“Hm,” Geralt says. Ciri frowns at him, and Geralt realizes that not everyone is as well versed in translating him as Jaskier is. “I do. Like it, I mean.”

Ciri beams at him. “Jask let me help with the design! The flowers all have meanings.”

“Do they?” Geralt isn’t entirely surprised; he’s picked up a bit about courting traditions over the years, especially when traveling with Jaskier, but he doesn’t actually know any of the meanings.

“Mmhm.” Ciri nods. “Ivy is fidelity and friendship. Wallflowers are for faithfulness in adversity. Morning glory is affection. Dandelion is because Jaskier thinks he’s _clever._ ” The last bit is said loudly enough that it gets Jaskier’s attention.

“I am clever.” Jaskier grins. “Also, it can mean happiness, so I think it’s a good choice.”

“Hm.” Geralt tries to sound skeptical, but judging from Jaskier’s pleased look, it mostly comes across as fond.

“Alright, take your flirting out of my temple,” Thalia says. “You two are all set.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Jaskier kisses Thalia on the cheek and then leads Geralt and Ciri out of the temple and back into the crisp winter morning.

**

Geralt doesn’t have a chance to look at the inscription on the ring until that evening. He sits on the edge of his bed and pulls the ring off his finger. It’s absence already feels strange, and he’s not sure what to do with _that._

The inscription on the posey ring is written in a tiny looping font that reads: _roads I keep in my heart forever_

He smiles, returning the ring to his finger. He recognizes the phrase, familiar in the way that so many of Jaskier’s songs are. He thinks about teasing Jaskier for using his own lyrics as the inscription, but he knows he won’t. Geralt can’t imagine wanting to wear anyone else’s words like this.

As he prepares for bed, Geralt can’t help the tiny spark of hope he feels thinking about the words. They aren’t for show; they’re hidden on the inside of the ring, and he can’t imagine anyone asking to see them, which means that these words are just for _them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent probably too much time researching medieval wedding stuff—the ceremony they have here is loosely based on what a church ceremony would have been like in medieval Europe.  
> [Posey rings](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c3/a1/e7/c3a1e7e01ce57beb6ac7825b18ae4b3e.jpg)
> 
> were common during the time period that the Witcher is (loosely) set in—they would have images engraved on the outside and an inscription on the inside. The inscription Jaskier chose is from a ballad Dandelion sings in "Season of Storms".
> 
> In case anyone is curious—this is what I'm imagining for Geralt's [doublet](https://pin.it/5I64k32) and this is [Jaskier's](https://pin.it/4tMAaiU)
> 
> Thank you to GenkiTaco for beta-ing!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier runs into an old 'friend'.

Jaskier is not particularly impressed with the odd looks that Talia keeps giving him as she performs the marriage, but she _does_ do it, so he supposes he can’t complain. The whole thing feels surreal—like a dream, if Jaskier had ever even thought to dream of having Geralt in any way that would lead to _marriage_. Geralt hadn’t even needed much prodding to dress in something other than armor, and Ciri seemed delighted by the whole affair.

The reality of what Jaskier’s done doesn’t really sink in until they leave the temple, a legally binding marriage document in hand. He tries not to dwell on this overmuch; he knows that it will be worth it to be able to help Ciri. The rest of the day is equally dreamlike, but Geralt seems as off-kilter as Jaskier, so that is something, at least.

He calls it a night early, closing himself in his room and taking a deep breath. He strips out of his doublet and picks up his lute, settling onto the floor and leaning back against the bed. He strums the lute, too unsettled to play anything specific; he just picks through bits of familiar tunes and watches the way the new ring on his finger catches the light.

**

The next morning, Jaskier sets out early, heading towards the administrative building. He’s hoping he can get everything settled with Deckermann quickly, and that once this is taken care of, he can stop thinking _so_ much about the marriage.

“I’m here to see the chancellor,” Jaskier tells the woman working at the front of the building.

“I’ll see if he’s available,” the woman says. She moves deeper into the building and Jaskier leans back against the wall with a sigh.

“Oh, _Julian_.” Valdo Marx steps into the room. Jaskier grits his teeth at the simpering tone.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nothing important.” Valdo waves a hand. “But I believe congratulations are in order?”

Jaskier narrows his eyes but doesn’t respond.

“I really thought you were smarter than this, Julian,” Valdo says, mock concern in his tone.

“That doesn’t sound like congratulations,” Jaskier says.

Valdo smirks at him. “I suppose not.” He takes a step closer, and Jaskier has to resist the urge to move away. “I’m just _worried_ about you, Julian.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Worried about me?”

“I just thought you would have more sense than to risk your heart on something that is so _obviously_ being done for, shall we say, less than romantic reasons?”

“I don’t see why we should say that when it’s not _true_ ,” Jaskier says, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“Oh please.” Valdo snorts. “We both know that the witcher doesn’t care for you like _that_. Gods know if it can even feel love, and if it did, it certainly wouldn’t feel it for you.”

“Do _not_ talk about him like that,” Jaskier hisses. “Of course our marriage is real. And I don’t see why it’s any of your concern.”

“Like I said”—Valdo puts a hand up placatingly—“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Right,” Jaskier says with a snort. “That’s always been a priority for you.”

Valdo crosses his arms. “Just because you don’t like what I have to say doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Well, you are wrong,” Jaskier grits out. He sees the woman returning and lets out a relieved sigh. “As lovely as this has been, I’m afraid I have a prior appointment.”

Valdo narrows his eyes but doesn’t argue or try to stop Jaskier as he steps away.

“Chancellor Deckermann is available to see you,” the woman says, and Jaskier smiles, letting her lead him up to Deckermann’s office.

“Ah, Professor Pankratz.” Deckermann waves him towards the chair on the other side of his desk. Jaskier sits and passes over the document Thalia had provided.

“Thank you for your patience,” Jaskier says. “You’ll see there that my marriage is now official.”

Deckermann frowns as he glances at the paper. “Yes,” he says after a moment. “I suppose you’ve left me very little choice: Your witcher can stay.”

“Good,” Jaskier says. “I’m glad we were able to get this matter settled.”

Deckermann sighs. “Try not to draw too much attention, alright? You’ve put a target on us, and I’d like to try to mitigate the damage as much as we can.”

“Of course,” Jaskier agrees. “We don’t wish for any trouble.”

“Good,” Deckermann says. He ushers Jaskier out the door and turns back into his office.

Jaskier makes his way outside, relieved to see that Valdo has already left. He takes a meandering route through the campus, not in a hurry to return to the house. It was a cool morning, the sun just starting to melt the frost on the grass.

At the Guildenstern Bridge, he stops, leaning against the railing and staring down at the water below. He is suddenly aware of how much time stretched before him: Until this point, he had been focused on specific tasks to make sure that their ruse would hold. Now, all that was left were the long winter months living in domestic ‘bliss’ with a man who doesn’t even consider him a friend. It feels like a particularly cruel trick of fate, to have this false version of something he wants to be _real._

He taps his fingers on the wall, a half formed melody starting to take shape, hoping that he’ll at least be able to come out of this with a few new songs, even if he can’t manage to keep his heart intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented & left kudos! Your support means so much to me!  
> Thank you to Acornsofthemind & GenkiTaco for beta-ing this chapter 🌼
> 
> The next chapter should be up soon—things got a little crazy while I was wrapping up my Witcher Big Bang piece but I have the next chapters (mostly) written.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri learns more about her new family

After the wedding, they settle into a routine. Ciri is glad for it; so much has changed in the last few weeks that a daily routine is a blessing. Of course, it means more time to think about everything that she’s lost, but she is determined to keep her mind off it for now. There’s nothing they can do at this point, so she seeks out the distractions she can.

She trains with Geralt in the morning. He is the best fighter she has ever seen, and her grandmother had brought in highly skilled warriors to teach her. He is a surprisingly good teacher, once she figures out his cues. He is sparing with praise, but she has managed to figure out the expression that means he’s pleased, and his corrections are always helpful. He is still learning the limits of human endurance, so Ciri is always aching and exhausted when they finish, but it is the good kind of ache. It means that, should she face danger again, she will be better prepared.

The afternoons are mostly spent quietly—Jaskier teaches several lectures, so he is often out of the house until late afternoon, and Geralt is no more inclined to talk here than he was on the road. Ciri thinks she is getting better at reading him, and she has managed to get him to talk to her more—only on the subject of monsters, but it is an interesting topic. She enjoys that he is willing to talk to her; it makes her feel more certain that she is not just a burden to him.

**

“I come bearing gifts,” Jaskier says as he deposits almost a dozen journals onto the table in Ciri’s room. “Those are my writings from when I traveled with Geralt.”

Ciri looks at the books, wide-eyed and almost overwhelmed. She traveled with Geralt for weeks before they reached Oxenfurt and had learnt next to nothing about the witcher. Now Jaskier has just handed her _years_ of his history. “Thank you!” She breaths.

Jaskier waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing to thank me for, dearheart. There’s also quite a bit of other stuff in there: poetry and notes on songs and probably some terribly pretentious musings that you’ll have to skip over. But hopefully that will satisfy at least some of your curiosity.” He tucks a sheef of papers that look like they’ve been torn from the notebooks under his arm, and Ciri resists the urge to ask about those.

She stands and wraps her arms around him, pressing her face into his stomach. She is so grateful for Jaskier. She has come to love Geralt, and she trusts him with her life, but he is not terribly warm or comforting; it is nice to have someone whose main concern is not just her safety.

Once Jaskier leaves, she flips through the notebooks, looking at the dates and rearranging them into chronological order. There are so many more than she expected. They traveled together for _so_ long; it only reinforces her conviction that something is wrong. Ciri doesn’t know either of them that well yet, but she knows how to read people. Those lessons had never been her favorite at court, but she is thankful for them now because she’s never met two people who are harder to read.

She picks up the final journal, the dates from just over a year ago and flips towards the end. This one cuts off in the middle of the journal, where the others have been written to the end. She goes back several pages, a few days before it ends, until she sees a scrawled note:

> _~~The dragon hunt?~~ The witcher and the dragon _
> 
> _What are we doing here? Geralt_ doesn’t _hunt dragons_

This seems to be the start of a particular adventure—leading to whatever caused Jaskier to abandon this journal. There are several notes on song lyrics and then an entry that describes how a man called Borch Three-Jackdaws had invited them on a dragon hunt, how Geralt had nearly refused until _Yennefer_ had arrived. Ciri traces a finger over Yennefer’s name. Geralt had told her almost nothing about the sorceress, and she hadn’t realized that Jaskier knew her.

> _I have a bad feeling about this. Geralt is never entirely sensible where she is concerned. This thing with Yennefer… well. A dragon hunt will make for an interesting ballad. If we make it down the mountain unscathed._

The next entry includes a sketch of a creature with large eyes (a note reminds Jaskier to look up ‘hirikka’ in a bestiary) and an extremely scathing commentary on the knight who Yennefer is accompanying. There are also several lines of a dwarven drinking song and a small sketch of Geralt in profile.

The final entry is the longest. It details how Borsch and Tea and Vea were lost, falling off an unstable bridge. And then the passage that really captures her attention;

> _I fear that my hopes of making it off the mountain unscathed will not come to be. I spoke with Geralt. He blames himself for the deaths, as is his way. I was a fool, but I asked him to leave this mountain. To go to the coast. He scoffed as usual, asked if I was working on a song—as though I would use his pain like that. I said I was trying to work out what pleased me—as if I did not already know. As if I have not known for years. He said nothing, but went to join Yennefer in her tent. I suppose that is as clear an answer as I could have expected from him._
> 
> _Tomorrow we reach the dragon, and after… Well, fall is coming so perhaps a winter apart will give me time to heal._

After that, there are no more entries, just part of the stanza for a song:

> _It's always lose, lose_
> 
> _So tell me love, tell me love_
> 
> _How is that just_?

Ciri stares at those final lines and wonders _what_ happened. It doesn’t seem like Jaskier to leave out the ending of a tale. She wants to ask, but it doesn’t seem imagine that would be welcome. Ciri closes that notebook and sets it aside for now. Going back, she selects the first journal, dated about twenty years before the dragon hunt, and starts to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to GenkiTaco and Acornsofthemind for beta-ing! I hope you are all continuing to enjoy the fic! 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri has some questions for Geralt

“You seem upset,” Ciri says as she dodges a swing, pirouetting away from Geralt’s attack and using the momentum to try to slash at his legs. Geralt is able to deflect the blow easily, but he is pleased by how quickly she is improving. “I thought you would be happier once we were safe,” Ciri presses on, and Geralt holds up a hand to indicate a break.

“I’m not... unhappy,” Geralt says.

Ciri tilts her head to the side. “Is there something going on between you and Jaskier?”

“No,” Geralt says and then winces slightly; there’s no way that response was convincing.

“Okay…” Ciri drags the word out. “Have you ever been to the Kestrel Mountains?”

For a moment, Geralt thinks that she’s dropped the subject and moved on, but then he makes the connection, remembers that Jaskier asked permission to share his journals with Ciri. He freezes. Ciri remains at the ready, watching him carefully.

“Ask what you mean to ask,” Geralt says, trying to keep the growl out of his voice.

Ciri looks slightly sheepish but not enough to drop the subject. “What happened at the end of the dragon hunt?”

Geralt snorts. “You must have more than enough information.” He can’t imagine what Jaskier must have written at the end of that disastrous trip; he almost regrets agreeing to let Ciri see the journals, but she deserves to know exactly who Geralt is.

“The last entry is the day before you reach the dragon; there’s nothing else after that. Well, there’s a bit of a song,” Ciri says with a shrug.

Geralt takes a deep breath, trying to figure out exactly what to tell her. “We had a fight. That was the last time I saw him before we got here.” He pauses for a moment. “Well. Not really a fight. I said… some things. That weren’t true. I—hm… I was cruel to him.” He leans back against the paddock fence and stares out over the water. “Things are different now, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Have you tried apologizing?" Ciri asks.

He starts to respond but then stops, realizing that he hasn't actually. He's avoided bringing up the events of the dragon hunt, had hoped that they could just pretend it had not happened.

“You haven’t!”

“I never needed to before,” Geralt grumbles. “It never bothered him when I snapped, when I lost my temper...”

Ciri huffs. “Even if it didn’t bother him, it still wouldn’t have hurt you to apologize.”

“Hm.”

“So, you’ll apologize?” Ciri prompts.

“What if an apology doesn’t work?” The words are out before he has time to think. He regrets them immediately—he shouldn’t be burdening Ciri with this—but the question is out now, hanging above him like an axe about to drop. “What if there’s no way to fix this?” He hadn’t really let himself think about this before; he’d been holding on to the hope that things would eventually go back to normal. The thought of an entire winter of this distant and chilly Jaskier—this Jaskier who smells like anxiety when he is close to Geralt—is excruciating.

Ciri comes closer and tucks herself against Geralt’s side. “I think you can fix this. Jaskier likes you a _lot_ , Geralt. You don’t _marry_ people you don’t like.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “It’s not a real marriage. He only offered so that we could stay for the winter.”

“Hm. Well, even so, it’s clear he still cares about you.” Ciri looks up at him, wide-eyed and earnest. “Isn’t it better to have at least tried?”

Geralt sighs, knowing she is probably right. Still, there is something daunting about it—the fear that bringing up the mountain might make things worse, might cause even more damage.

“Oh,” Ciri gasps. Geralt looks down at her, startled. She is staring at him with a determined expression. “You love him, don’t you?”

Geralt can’t meet her eyes, humming noncommittally, which is likely all the answer Ciri needs. Even so, she is quiet for a moment, giving Geralt space to respond if he wishes.

“I think you should woo him,” Ciri announces.

Geralt freezes, his mind stuttering as if he has just jumped into icy water—shock making everything stop for a moment.

“It’s perfect! Obviously you should _start_ by apologizing for the mountain, but—”

“Why would I try to woo him?” Geralt manages to choke out.

Ciri frowns. “If you love him, why wouldn’t you?”

“He’s not going to love me,” Geralt says, voice more bitter than he would like. “I’ve hurt him too much. And nobody wants to be with a witcher.”

Ciri makes a displeased noise that is eerily similar to Jaskier. “We’re not getting into the nonsense about witchers. You _know_ Jaskier doesn’t care about that.”

“Hm."

Ciri is practically bouncing with excitement now. “It’s perfect: It’s a way to make up for being mean in the past, _and_ it will show him you are interested.” She must see that Geralt is about to protest more because she adds, “And if he doesn’t feel the same way, you can say you just want to make up for being a bad _friend._ You don’t have to mention romance right away.”

Geralt thinks about arguing more—but there is a part of him that wants to try this. That wants to take the chance, however small, that Jaskier might feel the same way.

“I…” Geralt sighs. “I don’t know how to woo anyone.”

Ciri grins, clearly interpreting that as agreement. “I can help! I’ve seen noble couples court before!”

Geralt listens as Ciri starts coming up with ideas, feeling both apprehensive and a little excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos & comments!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt (finally) apologizes.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice is softer than usual. Jaskier looks up to see him holding a bouquet of flowers. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he would say that the witcher looked _nervous_.

“Geralt?” Jaskier prompts, turning to face him fully.

Geralt thrusts the flowers at Jaskier. “I’m sorry.” He blurts the words out as if he might lose his courage if he delays.

“Um.” Jaskier looks at the flowers and then back to Geralt.

“For what I said on the mountain,” Geralt explains. “I hope you know that I didn’t mean it. I lashed out at you because it was—” he hesitates for a moment, shifting nervously “—it was easier to blame someone else. Easier not to take responsibility.”

“Ah, well. Thank you,” Jaskier says. He touches the petals of one of the few plants he recognizes by sight: a geranium.

“They were Ciri’s idea,” Geralt admits. “She told me about the flower language.”

“They’re lovely,” Jaskier says. In truth the bouquet is a little on the odd side, more leaves than flowers, but it is very much the thought that counts, in this case. Geralt has always been a man of action over words, and this shows a degree of care that Jaskier wouldn't have expected even _before_ the dragon hunt.

“I just—” Geralt takes a deep breath “—I want you to know that I don’t think you are responsible for any of it. They were my own choices, all of them. You were _there_ but only because you chose to see me as someone worthy of your company, and I shouldn't have taken that for granted. Shouldn’t have tried to _punish_ you for caring.”

Jaskier carefully places the flowers down on his desk and makes a note to find a vase for them later. “I’m going to hug you now,” he announces. He moves closer, and Geralt doesn’t resist as Jaskier pulls him into a hug. “I forgive you.”

Geralt gives a pleased hum and tentatively brings his arms up to return the embrace. Jaskier lets himself enjoy the feeling for a moment and, briefly, imagines that this might mean more than their friendship resuming, but he doesn’t allow that hope to flourish. He is happy to have his friend back; he won’t risk that by pushing for more.

**

Jaskier watches as Geralt leads Roach out of the stable and away from the house. He had decided to go out on a hunting trip after several days of increasing restlessness. Once the witcher is out of sight, Jaskier slumps down into a chair to think. It seems as if the past few days have passed in a blur—between his classes and trying to figure out how to keep Geralt entertained over the winter, he hasn’t had much time to reflect.

Things have been easier—less tense—since Geralt had apologized. Jaskier doesn’t feel as on edge; he hadn’t even realized how nervous he had been, waiting for the moment when he would accidentally push Geralt too far and cause the man to lash out again.

Even so, Jaskier feels like they are in limbo: The wounds from the mountain are still healing, and the doubts that have plagued him since that day—that Geralt really didn’t enjoy his company, thought him a burden—have not entirely vanished. Jaskier isn’t entirely ready to admit it, but he knows that the mountain had made him realize how much of himself he had offered to Geralt and how very little he had received in return. He doesn’t think that he could be content again with how things were before—not now, after he had finally decided to build a life for himself that didn’t revolve around Geralt—but he isn’t sure where that will leave them come spring.

**

One of Jaskier’s favorite students, Roksana, had agreed to come to meet Ciri and potentially tutor her in some of the subjects Jaskier was not as familiar with. Roksana is clever and fierce in a way that instantly draws Ciri in. Once Jaskier has them settled in the parlour, he ducks into the kitchen; he wants to stay close in case Ciri needs anything, but he’s also aware that she’s probably getting sick of constantly having adults hovering over her.

Jaskier is only mildly surprised to see a little pamphlet about flower language on the table next to the vase where he had put the bouquet. Ciri probably left it out while he was seeing Geralt off. They must want to make sure that he knows what each one means because there are little pieces of ribbon marking certain pages. Jaskier grins at how _sweet_ it is that Ciri and Geralt had clearly planned this so carefully.

He takes a seat at the table and flips to the first marked page: bramble for “remorse.” The second is the geranium he had recognized before, the oak-leafed variety representing “true friendship.” The purple blossoms of milkvetch means “your presence softens my pains,” which is so lovely that Jaskier isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t imagine it’s a sentiment that Geralt would ever have expressed without Ciri’s involvement, but it makes him feel warm and bubbly inside. The final marked page is for volkamenia, meaning “may you be happy.”

There is a single blue flower that Jaskier almost misses. There isn’t a page marked for it, but Jaskier recognizes the cornflower. He flips through the pamphlet, which it takes him a moment, since the entry is listed under bachelor’s button. It has several listed meanings, including healing, protection, and good fortune. It is the final one that makes Jaskier’s heart race: hope in love. He wants to push aside the hopeful thoughts that spring up at that particular phrase. Surely Geralt meant it to refer to one of the other meanings, but if that were the case, why not mark the page?

Jaskier plucks the flower out of the vase and leans back in his chair, regarding the blue petals. He can vaguely recall a tradition involving cornflowers, something that he had heard about years ago, when he was growing up. They were used to predict the outcome of a new relationship: A blossom would be taken and put in your buttonhole; if the flower was unwilted by the next day, the couple would have a long future together. Jaskier rolls his eyes; he can only imagine Geralt’s expression if he knew Jaskier had even considered that he had meant to evoke such a silly romantic tradition. Still, he is gentle when he returns the flower to the vase, and he cannot entirely ignore a flicker of optimism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented/left kudos! I am so glad everyone is enjoying the fic so far!
> 
> Thank you very much to renaissanceman and kageygirl for helping to beta this chapter <3 Your input was so so helpful!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets Ciri's new tutor

Dusk has fallen as Geralt leads Roach back into Oxenfurt. His day out of the city has left him feeling more settled, the quiet of the forest familiar and relaxing after the bustle of the college town. He feels ready for what the rest of the winter will bring. Finally speaking about the mountain had helped; Geralt hadn’t realized exactly how much his words had affected Jaskier, but he noticed that the bard seemed more at ease afterward.

Now that things feel closer to normal, Geralt hasn’t been able to put Ciri’s suggestion that he court Jaskier out of his mind. The realization that he _misses_ both Jaskier and Ciri after only a few hours hardens his resolve.

Geralt can see the light of the fire in the living room when he reaches the house, and he relaxes, secure in the knowledge that Jaskier and Ciri are close. He takes his time grooming Roach, a decision he regrets when his medallion starts trembling as he approaches the front door. He takes a deep breath in and catches the scent of a werewolf. His hand goes to the dagger at his side—he didn’t bring his swords on his hunting trip, and the crossbow is too large to use effectively indoors.

He enters the house quietly. A werewolf is not immediately dangerous, but he can’t imagine what one is doing in his house. Following the scent and the sound of voices, Geralt makes his way into the parlour. Jaskier is at his desk, a stack of papers occupying his attention, while a young woman Geralt doesn’t recognize sits on the floor with Ciri. Their conversation breaks off when Geralt enters, and the young woman’s eyes widen—presumably as she realizes _what_ Geralt is.

Jaskier spins around in response to the sudden quiet. “Oh, welcome home, Geralt!” he says with a smile. Rising to his feet, he adds, “Geralt, this is Roksana. Roksana, my husband, Geralt.”

Roksana stands as well, still looking nervous, and takes a small shuffling step back towards Jaskier. Geralt tenses.

Jaskier looks between the two with a frown until he notices Geralt’s dagger; then he sighs dramatically. “Geralt, be a dear and put the dagger away.”

Geralt doesn’t move. “What is she doing here?”

“Professor.” Roksana’s voice is strained.

“What’s going on?” Ciri asks at the same time.

“Roksana is one of my students,” Jaskier says. “I spoke to her about tutoring Ciri.”

“You didn’t say your husband was a witcher!” Roksana exclaims.

Jaskier shrugs, apologetic. “I thought everyone knew by now!” He turns to Geralt, who is still standing in the doorway. “Roksana _Dussart_ —I believe you know her father—is an excellent student and is far better suited to teaching Ciri history and politics than I am.”

Geralt immediately relaxes upon hearing that name. He’s still wary, but he does step back into the hall to remove his armor.

“Why did Geralt look worried?” he hears Ciri ask.

There is a moment of quiet before he hears Roksana sigh. “Well. You know he can sense non-humans? I’m a werewolf.”

“Oh,” Ciri breathes. She smells worried, and Geralt returns to the room, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“How are your parents?” he asks Roksana, somewhat strained but hoping to ease the tension.

Roksana seems to warm slightly. “Good. Pa still talks about saving you from that sorcerer’s crossbowman. He likes to feel heroic.”

Geralt allows a small smile. “He did save my life that day.” He feels Ciri calming, and Jaskier flashes him a grateful smile.

“I am sorry not to have warned, well, either of you,” Jaskier says, somewhat sheepish.

“It’s alright,” Roksana says with a shrug. “No harm done.”

“Hm.” Geralt glances around the room once. He can tell that Roksana is still nervous, and he doesn’t want to upset her or disturb Ciri’s lessons. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

He heads back outside, taking the rabbits he had caught to the back of the house to deal with preparing them. He doesn’t look up when he hears footsteps approaching a few minutes later.

“Are you upset?” Jaskier asks, voice quiet as it only is when he’s truly worried, and Geralt turns to look at him. He’s fidgeting slightly, unable to meet Geralt’s gaze. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Roksana, but I swear, I wouldn’t have invited her to tutor Ciri if I thought she posed any kind of risk to her.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt wants to reach out, knows that contact is a good way to stop Jaskier from spiraling, but his hands are bloody, and he’d rather not hear the complaints that would result if he ruined Jaskier’s coat. “I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He pauses for a moment, considering his words. “I trust you, Jaskier. I know that you would never do anything that might bring Ciri harm.”

“Oh!” Jaskier sounds surprised, and Geralt suppresses an irritated growl. He’s not sure how he’s done such a bad job of showing Jaskier exactly how important he is. “That’s good. And you’re right! I care for Ciri a great deal. I would never do anything that might hurt her.”

“I know,” Geralt says because it's so obvious to him—Jaskier is loyal to a fault; he always has been. At least this time, that loyalty is for someone who actually deserves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not fic-related but very important: if you live in the US and haven't already done so—please please please go out and vote tomorrow!!  
>    
> Otto Dussart is one of my absolute favorite minor characters from the Witcher books—his daughters are not actually named in the book but I wanted an excuse to mention him so that's how we ended up with Roksana (is she the one who tried to attack an entire witcher when she was like five? perhaps).
> 
> Thank you to CousinCecily, kageygirl, and renaissanceman for your help beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciri makes a plan and Geralt receives a letter.

Geralt is fairly certain Ciri has more enthusiasm than actual knowledge when it comes to courting traditions, but he has rarely seen her so happy. The shadow of Cintra always seems to linger over her, but when she discusses the plan, that pain clears. Even if Jaskier doesn’t understand what he is attempting to do, it will be worth it to help Ciri.

“There’s one that my grandmother was fond of,” Ciri says. “It won’t work _exactly_ , but it seems like something you’d like as well?”

“What is it?”

“So, traditionally there’s a dance: All the single women wear empty sheaths at their waist. If a boy’s interested, he needs to put his dagger in the girl’s sheath.”

Geralt blinks at her. This seems like a blatantly obvious metaphor, although he can certainly see why the addition of weapons would appeal to Calanthe. “Jaskier isn't going around wearing an empty sheath,” Geralt points out, trying very hard not to think of exactly what the dagger and sheath represent.

“Well obviously,” Ciri huffs. “But you could still get him a dagger!”

“That's… good,” Geralt admits. It _is_ actually a good idea; Jaskier carried a dagger when they’d traveled together, but it had been shit quality. Geralt had always worried it would break if Jaskier actually tried to use it.

“I told you,” Ciri says smugly.

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “It’s not going to be quite as obvious as the dance.” The… metaphor of the ritual will be lost if he just gives Jaskier a dagger, but he’s reluctant to point that out; he’s not sure how much Ciri understands, and he’s a little afraid to find out.

“Well, no, but it’s still a good gift.”

“That is true,” Geralt says. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

Ciri beams, and Geralt reaches out to ruffle her hair. She grumbles but doesn’t move away.

**

Geralt has managed to pick up a few odd jobs around the city. Turns out that, between Jaskier’s songs and a demonstration of witcher strength, there are more than a few masons and carpenters happy to hire him to help with maintenance and construction work. It’s the same sort of thing he is used to doing at Kaer Morhen over the winter, and he is glad for the work. It’s something to keep him busy and a way to earn at least some coin so that he doesn’t need to entirely rely on Jaskier’s good graces.

It also means that he has enough to afford a dagger that will suit Jaskier. He knows the blacksmith at Oxenfurt, has worked with him before, and he trusts that the man will be able to make the dagger to the specifications that Geralt provided.

He is able to buy a sword for Ciri, as well. They’ve been training with daggers, since Geralt wanted something she would be able to carry with her without attracting attention, but she’s a quick study, and he knows she is eager to learn more about sword fighting. She’s half-convinced she’ll become a witcher, and as much as Geralt dreads the thought, he knows that Oxenfurt will not always be enough; there will always be danger they’ll need to face, and he wants to be sure she has all the skills he can teach her.

**

Geralt looks dubiously at the letter. Nobody should know where he is. He sent a letter to the tavern in Lod for his brothers to let them know why he hadn’t joined them this winter, but they won’t see that until spring. He can’t think of anyone who would have found his location and then sent him such a formal-looking letter, but he can’t detect any magical traces. He is careful of the seal; it isn’t a symbol he recognizes but Jaskier might. He opens the letter and reads:

> _To Mister Geralt Pankratz,_
> 
> _We extend our regrets that we were not able to attend your nuptials. Rest assured that, had we been informed sooner, we would have been in attendance and meant no slight to you by our absence. As it stands, we must simply offer our congratulations and extend an invitation for you and your daughter to visit Lettenhove at your earliest convenience so that we might properly welcome you into the family._
> 
> _Your husband, our dear son, has never shown a particular interest in resuming his duties as Viscount, but we would like to make it clear that the position and all of its advantages are available to you both, should you wish to take your rightful place._
> 
> _Regardless of your choice in the above matter, we would like to formally amend the family records and line of succession to include Fiona, so that she might be provided for should any need arise._
> 
> _We again extend our warmest welcome into the family and offer our congratulations on your wedding. We look forward to your visiting Lettenhove._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Alfred and Lidia Pankratz_

“What’s that?” Jaskier asks, leaning on the back of Geralt’s chair. The position puts him so close that Geralt can feel his warm breath on his neck, and he resists the urge to lean backwards.

“I think your parents want me to be a viscount,” Geralt says.

“What?” Jaskier yelps, plucking the letter from Geralt’s hands. “Oh, that’s too good!”

Geralt frowns. “How did they find out?”

“Oh, I imagine Ferrant told them,” Jaskier says. “He has a tendency to get himself involved in these sorts of things.”

“Hm.” Geralt turns to watch as Jaskier reads the letter again. “Do… they know I’m a witcher?”

“I don’t see how they would have failed to figure that out; they _have_ heard my songs.”

“And they still want me to be part of the family?” None of this makes any sense. “To be Viscount?”

“Oh, the viscount part is just to bother me, I’m sure. They’ve all but named my cousin Viscount.”

“And the family part?”

“Well, we _are_ married.”

Geralt huffs. “But I’m a witcher.”

Jaskier looks up, meeting his gaze steadily. “My dear, they’ve had rather a long time to adjust themselves to the idea that I’d taken up with a witcher.”

“But. It wasn’t— We didn’t,” Geralt stumbles.

“No, of course not,” Jaskier agrees, and there’s something odd about his tone, now. “But there were always rumors. In any case”—he waves a hand—“they don’t expect me to take over the seat, so they can be a little more lenient about my choices.”

“Hm.”

“The bit about Ciri is good though,” Jaskier adds. “Having an official record of sorts will make it easier to keep her true identity a secret. And she could do with more family.”

Geralt hums, not willing to point out that their arrangement is only going to last a few more months and after that—well, after that he doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he can’t imagine that Jaskier’s _family_ will be interested in putting their lives at risk for the sake of a witcher once the marriage ends.

“Well, they won’t be expecting an answer right away,” Jaskier says, “so you can take some time to think about it.”

Geralt nods, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into his pocket. “Would they still want to do this if they knew the risks?”

Jaskier sighs. “I’m not sure. They might, if they knew how important it is to me. I suppose we can ask them if we do go to visit. If you are willing to risk more people knowing.”

Geralt almost asks _why_ this is so important to Jaskier, but he realizes immediately how foolish a question it would be; he’s seen the way that Jaskier cares for Ciri, how he dotes on the girl as if she truly was his child. “Perhaps we can visit when the weather turns?” Geralt suggests, only slightly reluctantly. “And decide then?”

Jaskier seems to sense his mood. “Geralt? Are you offering to willingly spend time with nobles?" he teases.

“Spend time with you, don’t I?” Geralt says. “I'm used to noble bullshit.”

“Oh!” Jaskier gasps in mock outrage. “You absolute brute! How dare you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dagger ritual that Ciri talks about is based on a tradition originating in Finland and other Nordic countries!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented & left kudos! I really appreciate all of you <3
> 
> Thank you to CousinCecily, kageygirl, and renaissanceman for your help beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparring is the best way to bond.

It is an unusually warm morning, so Jaskier wanders outside. He still has an hour before he has to leave for his first lecture of the day, and he doesn’t particularly want to spend the time doing work. Instead, he finds a sunny spot and leans against the wall to watch Geralt and Ciri’s training.

“Use your size to your advantage,” Geralt is saying. “Get in close when fighting someone with longer reach.”

Ciri nods, adjusting her grip on the dagger. Geralt gestures for her to begin, holding his sword at the ready. Jaskier watches as she darts forward, spinning to avoid a slash from Geralt’s sword, and moves in close. Geralt stops.

“See? Close like this, I can’t get good momentum to hit you with my sword. It’s not perfect: If your opponent has sense they’ll try to grab you, or strike you with the hilt, but if you are quick you’ll have an advantage. You just have to make it count.”

The training continues, and Jaskier zones out, watching while his mind drifts.

“Would you like to join us?” Geralt’s question startles him out of his reverie.

“What?”

“Training,” Geralt says. “Would you like to practice with us?”

Jaskier considers. He knows the basics, things he’s picked up over the years, but he’s never really trained with a dagger. “Sure.” He notices the small smile that Geralt graces him with and grins back as he warns, “I won’t go easy on you, though.”

Geralt snorts. “I’m shaking in my boots. Come on.”

Jaskier snickers and follows him over to where Ciri is waiting. Everything starts off well enough. Jaskier knows how to hold a knife, and he remembers stances and how to adjust his balance from his childhood fencing lessons. However, it quickly becomes apparent that there are some distinct differences between fighting with a dagger and fencing—

“What are you doing with your hand?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier pauses, realizing that he’s tucked his off-hand behind his back, and shrugs. “What should I be doing with it?”

“Depends on what your opponent’s doing,” Geralt says. “Go for an attack; watch what I do.”

Jaskier slashes out, and Geralt blocks the swing—bringing his left forearm up against Jaskier’s to knock the blow aside.

“You can use your free arm to block an attack. Try to grab the person you are fighting and use their momentum against them.” Geralt tilts his head like he always does when he thinks he’s being clever. “Pretty much anything other than trying to pretend it doesn’t exist.” His eyes crinkle in the way that suggests he is terribly pleased with himself.

Jaskier sniffs, mock offended. “Fine, I can see you have no appreciation for the noble art of dueling.”

“Not particularly, no,” Geralt agrees.

Jaskier laughs and takes a few steps back. “Fair enough.” He flips the dagger in his hand, offering it to Geralt hilt first. “I’m afraid I need to get to work, but perhaps we can continue this tomorrow?” He tries to keep his voice even, not to show how desperately he wants Geralt to say yes. It’s nice to spend time together like this, with Geralt so clearly comfortable and in his element.

Geralt’s expression is irritatingly neutral, but he does nod. “You’re always welcome to train with us.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier says with a bright smile. “Well, I’m off. Ciri, Geralt—try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.” He winks at Ciri and then heads back around the house to grab his satchel and leave for his lecture.

**

Jaskier starts joining them most mornings, following along as Geralt teaches Ciri proper footwork and stances. Geralt is a skilled teacher, and he is more patient than Jaskier has ever seen him.

“And you thought you would be bad with her,” Jaskier says as they watch Ciri head inside. She’s rosy-cheeked from the exertion, cheerful and so _vibrant_. When she’s like this, it’s easy to forget the amount of trauma she’s been through.

Geralt gives him a long look. “I’m still not sure,” he admits quietly. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Jaskier leans back against the fence. “I imagine most parents feel that way some of the time. You’re helping her learn how to protect herself, and she knows she’s safe with you. That’s more than some children have.”

“Us,” Geralt says. “She’s safe with _us_.” He doesn’t look at Jaskier, staring out into the middle distance. “I don’t think… I don’t think this would work as well, if not for you.”

“Geralt—” Jaskier starts to protest, but Geralt holds up a hand.

“Wait. If you hadn’t helped us, I wouldn’t have had anywhere to take her. We would have been running, all the time. The only reason I can give her this”—he gestures vaguely towards the house—“is because you took us in.”

“I’m sure you would have figured something out,” Jaskier says, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing.

Geralt glances at him. “Maybe. It wouldn’t be as _good_ , though.”

“Ah, well.” Jaskier does his best to flash an easy smile. “I’m glad I was able to help.” _This time_ , he doesn’t add. This is honestly a lovely moment, and he doesn’t want any lingering bitterness to spoil it.

“Hm.” Geralt seems to be considering something, so Jaskier waits, standing in companionable silence for a moment. “I have something for you.”

Jaskier blinks, surprised, and asks,“What?” He tries to think of _why_ Geralt would have something for him.

Geralt steps away, walking over to where he had discarded his jacket earlier in their training session. He returns to Jaskier with a dagger: It is a narrow blade with a flat pommel, something that would be easy to conceal in a boot or under a doublet. Jaskier takes it, surprised to see how _pretty_ it is; the sheath is wood stained a dark blue, decorated with golden flowers—buttercups, he realises. He draws the blade, testing its weight.

“It has a smaller knife and a bodkin,” Geralt says, tapping a spot near the top of the sheath.

Jaskier sheaths the blade and pulls out the two smaller blades. “Thank you, Geralt.” He looks up to see Geralt watching him with an almost _fond_ expression.

“Figured it would suit you better than any of mine,” Geralt says with a shrug, clearly trying to play this off as casual, even though Jaskier can see the care that went into choosing this weapon.

He wonders at that, at the fact that Geralt wanted to _please_ him with this gift. They have bought each other things in the past, but those had always been—at least on Geralt’s part—practical things they needed when the other was short on coin. This is something _more._ It would certainly have been less work and less expensive to have gotten something more plain and practical. He wants to ask Geralt _why_ he chose this, if it means anything, but he’s worried that asking will make Geralt retreat, so—

“It does,” Jaskier agrees. Then, to break the tension, he teases, “Thank you for _finally_ acknowledging the importance of my fashion sense.” Geralt looks pleased, and Jaskier grins. He leans over to bump his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Just wait. Pretty soon, I’ll be good enough with it to beat you.”

Geralt gives him a look that speaks volumes on how unlikely that is.

“Oh, shut up,” Jaskier says without any heat. He doesn’t move; he stays leaning against Geralt’s side until he absolutely cannot put off heading to the lecture hall any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got Very Into looking at daggers—the one that I've given Jaskier is not technically from the correct region/time period but this is a fantasy world so I can do what I want. Aesthetically I'm imagining something like [this](https://images.metmuseum.org/CRDImages/aa/original/DP219464.jpg) but with the colors reversed.  
> If you are interested [this](http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O93197/holbein-dagger-dagger-sheath-and-unknown/) is a similar dagger design and you can see how the smaller knives fit into the sheath.  
> Thank you to CousinCecily, kageygirl, and renaissanceman for your help beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt run into an old acquaintance.

Geralt is following Jaskier towards the dining hall when a student freezes at the sight of them, and he tenses. So far the students seem to have been accepting of the witcher living amongst them—Jaskier’s influence no doubt—but he’s been expecting one of them to express concern, sooner or later.

“Professor Lettenhove?” The student’s attention is focused on Jaskier, and she looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“Yes?” Jaskier asks.

“I—I just saw you down at Three Little Bells.” The girl is still frowning. “How did you get here so fast?”

Jaskier glances at Geralt, eyes wide and as confused as Geralt’s are.

“Ah, I took a shortcut,” Jaskier says after a moment. He gives the girl a bright smile. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“It’s...alright.” She still looks dubious, but Jaskier links his arm through Geralt’s and starts towing him along the road.

“What was that?” Geralt asks.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Jaskier huffs.

Geralt follows as Jaskier leads him through the Philosopher’s Gate and out into Oxenfurt proper. It is not a long walk to the inn. Three Little Bells is brightly lit, and Geralt can hear someone playing a familiar song on a lute. Jaskier pulls his hood up before stepping into the building. Geralt follows, keeping alert for any danger. Inside, it is warm and lively, and the crowd is listening cheerfully to—well, to someone who looks exactly like Jaskier. Geralt watches as Jaskier pushes his way over to the small stage where the bard is performing.

“Might I have a word, Master Bard?” Jaskier asks.

The bard grins, finishes the song he was playing, and says, in a perfect imitation of Jaskier, “You’ve been a wonderful audience! Unfortunately, I must take my leave of you now. Goodnight!” He hops down from the stage, graciously accepts the coin passed his way, and then allows Jaskier to take him by the arm and pull him outside.

“Why are you here?” Jaskier snaps as soon as the door closes behind them.

“I wanted to see you,” the other Jaskier says with a pout.

“And you couldn’t have sent a runner?” Jaskier hisses, pulling the other along until they reached a dimly lit side street.

“I needed coin to do that.”

Jaskier just glares. “I’ve _told_ you not to do this in Oxenfurt during the winter.”

The other Jaskier shrugs, unapologetic. “Bit late for the lecture now. Oh! Hi, Geralt; it’s been a while.” He glances around the alley to be sure they are alone, before his form melts and shrinks into a well-dressed halfling.

“Dudu.” Geralt nods in greeting.

“So why are you here?” Jaskier presses.

“I wanted to make sure you knew about Nilfgaard,” Dudu explains. “I heard rumors that you have a bounty on your head, Jaskier. I wanted to make sure you had heard.”

“On my head?” Jaskier frowns. “Why?”

Dudu looks between Jaskier and Geralt. “Why do you think? They are looking for the White Wolf, and if they can’t find _him_ , they’ll go for anyone he’s known to associate with. Which is pretty much _just_ you.”

“Ah, well. I suppose that does make sense,” Jaskier sighs. Then, he seems to shake himself off, the anxiety fading from his scent. “I wasn’t planning to leave Oxenfurt anytime soon, so no matter. Geralt, can Dudu join us for dinner?” Geralt can see the unspoken question in Jaskier’s gaze, asking if it is okay for Dudu to see Ciri. Geralt considers for a moment and then nods; he only met Dudu once before, but it's clear that Jaskier has seen him since then—he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t trust Dudu—and considering Nilfgaard’s stance on non-humans, it’s not likely that Dudu will betray their location.

“Excellent.” Jaskier grins, warm and pleased. Jaskier and Dudu chat about music for the whole walk back. Dudu has apparently taken to traveling as Jaskier on occasion, so the two have plenty to talk about.

Geralt breaks off halfway back to the house to collect food from the dining hall they’d been heading for earlier. Jaskier had sweet-talked the cooks into setting food aside for them on certain days, so they could avoid the clamour of students in the hall.

When he makes it back, Jaskier and Dudu are leaning against the fence watching as Ciri goes through her sword forms. Geralt ducks inside to leave the food by the fire and then heads back outside.

“I always knew you two would get together,” Dudu is saying. Geralt freezes, waiting to see how Jaskier will respond.

“ _Sure_ you did.” Jaskier’s tone is teasing.

Dudu snorts. “Alright. Fine. I didn’t—but that was only because I didn’t think your witcher would ever admit he had feelings.”

Jaskier laughs at that. “Yes, it was a surprise to all of us, I suppose.”

“I’m happy for you.” Dudu suddenly sounds sincere.

“Thanks.” Jaskier still sounds the same—light and jovial—but there’s a tinge of sadness to his scent that makes Geralt walk over almost without thinking.

Jaskier notices him first. “Oh, Geralt! Is the food ready?”

“It is.” Geralt places a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder as he walks past them to fetch Ciri.

He hears Jaskier ushering Dudu inside and takes a moment to center himself. He’s suddenly nervous, not sure how to keep up their ruse in front of someone who knows them. It’s been easy enough to stick to their normal behavior—something Geralt is not entirely sure how to feel about—but with Dudu, that might seem suspicious, like nothing has changed.

**

“So, there I was”—Dudu waves a hand—“facing down a witcher who I was sure planned to kill me—”

“I _told_ you I wasn’t going to kill you,” Geralt interrupts. “I just wanted you to leave the city.” He hadn’t protested either Dudu’s or Jaskier’s embellishments to the story up to this point, but so much of what he does involves killing, and he doesn’t want that to be all Ciri knows of him.

Dudu pulls a face. “Well, that’s hardly as dramatic, is it?”

“Hm.”

“Well, anyway,” Dudu says, winking at Ciri, “I thought that _perhaps_ in the form of a witcher, I stood a better chance—”

“A foolish thought, really,” Jaskier interjects.

“I was a match for Geralt at any rate: I had his abilities, of course, and his training. He wouldn’t have been able to defeat me.” Geralt gives a skeptical hum, and Dudu grins. “Alright, I wouldn’t have won—because I didn’t want to become a murderer—so I needed a different plan. Neither of us would win if we stayed matched like that, and nobody wanted to land a killing blow, so I took the one form I knew would keep me safe. A form that meant Geralt wouldn’t even be able to think of hurting me. I had seen into his thoughts, so I knew exactly who to be.”

Ciri leans in. “Who?”

Dudu leans back in his seat. “I changed into Jaskier, of course.”

Jaskier cocks his head. “I had wondered why you chose my form.”

“At that point, the only way Geralt would have been able to stop me from staying in Novigrad would have been to kill me,” Dudu says, “and I knew the thought of killing _Jaskier_ would be too abhorrent for him to attack me. In the end, all he could do was wish me luck.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen at that, and Geralt jumps in before he can ask anything that might force Geralt to show his hand. “And then, just when Dudu thought he could make a clean getaway, along comes Vespula all in a rage and hits him over the head with a frying pan.”

Jaskier winces. “Ah, Vespula. She did not handle the breakup well.”

“I’ll say,” Dudu agrees.

“And when she knocked him out, he changed from Jaskier’s form,” Geralt continues. “I wrapped him up in a rug before too many people could see.”

Jaskier takes up the story: “I arrived shortly after—and gave poor Vespula quite the fright. Then, Chappelle and Dainty arrived—we were sure that Chappelle would arrest Dudu and that would be that. But instead, Chappelle instructs Dudu to transform into Dainty again. Dainty claims Dudu as a cousin—and appoints our good friend to be his factor in the city.”

“And Chappelle was alright with that?” Ciri asks. “I’d heard some pretty terrible rumors about the Novigrad Secret Service…”

Geralt gives a small smile. “Well, it turns out that Chappelle had died of apoplexy two months earlier, and the man we were speaking to was, in fact, another doppler.”

“It was quite the twist,” Jaskier agrees with a smile.

“Things have been going well, too,” Dudu says. “Of course, everyone is on edge now with all that is going on, but we’ve been doing alright. Dainty and I have set aside some money to help the non-human refugees make it to safety.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Geralt says. “And I’m glad you visited.”

Dudu nods. “If I hear anything else regarding you, I’ll make sure to send a message.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier says.

From there, the conversation drifts to lighter subjects.

**

“You always knew, huh?” Geralt asks Dudu after Jaskier has gone upstairs to take Ciri to bed.

Dudu gives him a slightly smug smile. “I _have_ been in your head.” He snorts at whatever expression Geralt is making. “You _know_ the reason his face was the one I borrowed when I needed to be sure you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Hm.” Geralt can’t argue with that; he remembers the absolute revulsion he felt at the thought of hurting Jaskier after Dudu had changed. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything even though he _knew_ it wasn’t Jaskier.

“I’m glad to see you happy,” Dudu says. “Family life suits you.”

Geralt rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious!” Dudu protests. “Back then, I didn’t think you would ever work up the courage to do anything about how you felt, but I’m glad to have been wrong.”

“Shut up,” Geralt growls. He’s glad when Dudu just snickers, assuming that Geralt is embarrassed to be talking about feelings. And he is—at least partly—but mostly he hates the fact that Dudu is _right_ : He never said anything to Jaskier about how he feels; even now he’s terrified of what might happen if he actually comes out and _says_ it.

Geralt knows that he needs to say something, especially now that he’s come so close to having Jaskier the way that he wants him. He won’t give this up without trying his best to make it work between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to Octinary who mentioned the trope of the couple meeting a character who points out how they always knew they were going to end up together and how perfect they are for each other!  
> Dudu & Chappelle are both from the "Eternal Flame" story in _The Sword of Destiny_.
> 
> Thank you to CousinCecily, kageygirl, and renaissanceman for your help beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!


	17. Chapter 17

“Do you know why Geralt is buying me gifts?” Jaskier asks. “Because I have a feeling you are involved in this.”

Ciri tries to look innocent; it never fooled her grandmother, but it’s worth a shot. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Ciri sighs. She had been hoping that would work, but even though it didn’t, she’s still not going to spoil this. Geralt really ought to be the one to explain it. “You should ask him about it.”

“Asking Geralt why he’s doing something doesn’t always… work,” Jaskier says.

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to wait. _I_ certainly don’t know anything.”

Jaskier smiles. “You really need to practice your lying, princess. You aren’t fooling anyone.”

“Hm,” Ciri says in her best impression of Geralt.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Jaskier says.

Ciri watches him leave and then sighs. She’s going to have to get Geralt to do something more obvious next time.

**

“Do you know anything about magic?”

Roksana tilts her head in thought. “A bit—depends on what you want to know. There are classes here about magical theory and such but nothing really in-depth. You’d need to go to Aretuza or Ban Aard for anything really specialized.”

“I don’t really know much at all,” Ciri admits. “It’s not something I studied.”

“Well, what made you interested now?” Roksana asks. “That might give us a starting point.”

Ciri considers for a moment before she picks up one of Jaskier’s journals, flipping to the relevant page before passing it to Roksana. She waits while the older girl reads the passage. Ciri’s read it a dozen times since she came across the section describing her mother’s powers. She hadn’t known the full extent; people talked around the events of the betrothal feast, and her grandmother had always promised to tell her when she was older.

The section ends when her mother is calmed. Jaskier had removed the following pages, replacing them with a note ( _‘This night ended with Geralt claiming the Law of Surprise, a story you ought to hear from him’_ ).

Roksana hands the book back when she’s finished. “That’s your mother, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you do that?”

Ciri nods. “That’s why I was asking. Before Geralt found me... I did something like what my mother did. It wasn’t something I meant to do, and I couldn’t control it. I just— just don’t want to have this power that can hurt people.”

“Ah, well. I know what that’s like,” Roksana says. “Control is very important; it’s one of the first things my ma and dad taught me and my siblings.”

“Can you teach me?” Ciri tries not to sound quite as desperate as she feels. She can still remember the horrible feeling of waking up after; she hadn’t seen all of what her power had done, but she saw enough to know that she had destroyed those boys.

Roksana considers for a moment. “I don’t know much about how your magic works. From what I understand, mages draw on chaos from outside of themselves—werewolves don’t _usually_ have magic…”

“Usually?” Ciri asks.

Roksana grins. “I’ve got a bit. Used to be, all werewolves had magic, but it’s rare now. The bloodlines have been diluted or something. But since both of my parents are werewolves, I have some. It comes from an internal source, though, not something external.” She drums her fingers on the table. “Do you remember what it _felt_ like when you used the magic?”

Ciri thinks back, but that night is a blur of fear. “Not really.”

“Fair enough. Well, we can start with what my parents taught me: meditation and breathing exercises. Nothing terribly exciting, I’m sorry to say.”

“And that will help?” Ciri asks. Geralt had talked about meditating when they were on the road, but she hadn’t really understood the _point_.

“If your magic is something inside you, meditating is a way to focus on yourself. You might be able to get in touch with your power through that,” Roksana explains. “If it isn’t, it will still be useful to know how to control your breathing, quiet your mind—it helps with focusing enough to channel your power.”

“Alright,” Ciri agrees.

“I’ll check the library as well,” Roksana offers. “See what I can find… Have you talked to Geralt about this?”

Ciri shakes her head. “He already has so much to worry about… I don’t want—” _to burden him._ He’s never said as much, but she knows she has disrupted his life. She’s afraid that one day it will be _too_ much, that he’ll leave and she’ll be alone again.

“Oh, Ciri.” Roksana’s voice is soft. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’ll help you as much as I can, but Geralt would want to know. I think Profess— Jaskier would as well.”

“Maybe,” Ciri says. “But let's try this first?” If she can figure out how to control her powers she’ll be able to help; it will be something useful rather than one more thing that makes her a liability. “Promise you won’t tell?”

Roksana sighs. “I still think you ought to tell them, but I won’t say anything. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Ciri sighs in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Thank you so so much to everyone who has commented/left kudos/read this fic so far! It means a lot to me that people are enjoying this fic <3
> 
> Thank you to CousinCecily, kageygirl, and renaissanceman for your help beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> Lore note: I'm not entirely sure if Roksana being able to do magic totally works based on witcher lore but part of Season of Storms implies that therianthops (including werewolves) and anterions used to be able to do magic but over the years those abilities have diminished, possibly because bloodlines have been diluted.


	18. Chapter 18

“Is something wrong?” Jaskier asks, settling across the table from Geralt.

“Hm.” Geralt frowns at his half-finished plate of breakfast.

“You’ve been overthinking something,” Jaskier says. “Is it about what Dudu said?”

Geralt looks up, startled; he somehow always forgets exactly how astute Jaskier is.

“It is, huh?” Jaskier says, eyebrows raised. “Listen, it’s not as though that’s your fault. I’m the one who started following you, after all.”

“Could have done more to make you leave,” Geralt points out.

Jaskier’s gaze turns sharp. “We aren’t doing this again, are we?”

“What?”

“You trying to push me away ‘for my own good.’ I thought I’d broken you of that years ago.”

“Hm.”

“ _Geralt_ ”—Jaskier reaches out and places his hand on Geralt’s—“I made the choice to sing about you decades ago; there’s no point in regretting consequences that nobody could have imagined _now._ ”

Geralt sighs. “I’m putting you in more danger by being here now.”

“Maybe,” Jaskier says with a shrug. “But if Nilfgaard is looking for me, it will hardly matter to them if I last saw you a day or a year ago.” He squeezes Geralt’s hand. “Besides, I feel much safer knowing you are close.”

Geralt supposes he can’t argue with that; he certainly feels better knowing that Jaskier is somewhere nearby, where Geralt can protect him.

“Now, are you going to stop worrying about this?” Jaskier asks. “I know that’s a lot to ask.”

“Shut up,” Geralt mutters, without any real heat.

Jaskier laughs, giving Geralt’s hand another squeeze before standing. “I’m off to give a lecture. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Geralt hums in agreement, watching as Jaskier gathers up his notes and slings a cloak around his shoulders before heading outside.

**

The knock on the door startles Geralt: Jaskier is at his lecture, and Ciri is out for the day, so there’s no reason for a visitor to be here. He stands reluctantly and walks to the front door, focusing his senses to see if he can tell who is outside without actually having to interact with them.

The knock comes again, sharper this time. With a sigh, he opens the door and finds _Yennefer._ She looks worn down in a way that he’s never seen her; her clothing is fairly simple, and she hasn’t bothered with makeup. The scent of lilac and gooseberry has faded to almost nothing.

“Yennefer?”

“Geralt.” She gives him an assessing look. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Hm.” Geralt moves out of the doorway to let her inside. He’s not sure why she’s here. He’d been very much under the impression that she never wanted to see him again—the fact that she has apparently sought him out is… strange.

Yennefer walks into the house and looks around with curiosity. Geralt follows her gaze and tries to imagine what she is seeing: papers scattered across practically every flat surface, piles of books, Geralt’s potion ingredients laid on on the kitchen table and his armor and swords tucked away neatly by the door. The house looks lived-in, Jaskier and Ciri and Geralt’s things mixed together. It feels like _theirs,_ rather than just Jaskier’s. It feels like home, which should be strange; he’s spent so much of his life without having a real home, just Roach and whatever he could carry ever since he started on the Path. He’s not sure how he feels about Yennefer seeing this, not when it still feels so new and delicate.

“I have to say, this is not what I expected to find,” Yennefer says after a moment. Her tone is neutral in a way that makes Geralt nervous. She clearly has _opinions_ , and the fact that she’s choosing not to share them is unsettling. She’s never hesitated to make her opinions known before.

Geralt doesn’t respond; he’s not sure why she’s here, and he’s not ready to give anything away.

“I thought you would be tucked away in that keep of yours,” Yennefer says, turning back to face Geralt. “Why _are_ you here?”

“I needed somewhere safe for the winter.” Geralt shrugs. “Wouldn’t have been able to make it before the pass closed.”

Her tone shifts to disdain. “So you’re—what? Playing house with the bard for the winter?”

“Why are you here, Yen?”

She crosses her arms. “Why do you _think_ I’m here?”

_The djinn_. “You chose to come,” Geralt points out.

Yen turns away from him, picking up one of Ciri’s notebooks and looking at it for a long moment. “I was at the Battle of Sodden.” Geralt sucks in a sharp breath; he and Ciri had passed the battlefield on their way to Oxenfurt and had seen the devastation that had been wrought. “I… suppose it made me curious about why you might have stayed here. I know your usual stance on getting _involved_.”

Geralt shrugs. “Like I said, I wouldn't have been able to make it to the keep in time.”

“That’s not the only reason.” Yennefer turns back to him, still holding Ciri’s notebook. “Your child surprise?”

Geralt gives a tight nod. He knows that Ciri may need Yennefer’s help if she inherited her mother’s powers, but he’s not entirely comfortable asking her yet. Not with the way they parted last. Not without discussing it with Ciri and Jaskier first.

“I didn’t think you would really claim them,” Yennefer muses.

“Well, we never knew each other as well as we thought,” Geralt says.

“I suppose we didn’t.” Yen tilts her head, considering him for a long moment.

“I really am sorry,” Geralt says, and the words feel easier this time. “I didn’t know what the wish would do. I just… couldn’t let you die.”

Yennefer sighs. “I understand. I _could_ have handled it, but I suppose I can see why you might not have seen it that way.”

Geralt doesn’t argue; he knows it wouldn’t do them any good.

“I can forgive you for the wish, Geralt, but I can’t trust what we had.”

For a moment, Geralt doesn’t quite realize what she’s saying, then it hits him: She’s worried that he will want to resume their relationship. Before this, he would have, but things are different now.

He still feels the connection between them, but it doesn’t pull on him in the same way. Doesn’t feel as vital and all-consuming.

“Ah.” Yennefer tilts her head, giving a small smile. “The bard?”

Geralt blinks at her. “What?”

Yennefer snorts. “You are just as happy to see the end of our relationship as I am.”

Geralt just watches her. She’s not _wrong_ , but he’s not quite ready to say that out loud.

“You love him,” Yennefer says, and it isn’t a question.

“Yen—” Geralt growls; she _knows_ he hates it when she snoops in his head.

Yennefer laughs, a bright sound that he hasn’t heard in years. “I don’t need to read your mind, Geralt. You aren’t as subtle as you think you are.” She leans towards him. “Does he know?”

“Not… yet,” Geralt says.

“Oh? You plan to tell him?”

“Must we talk about this?” Geralt asks.

Yennefer considers this for a moment. “No, I suppose I don’t particularly want to hear whatever plan you’ve made to avoid having an honest conversation.”

“Hm.”

She laughs again. “I hope it works out. He’s good for you, I think.” She pauses for a moment. “I _do_ care about you, Geralt. Perhaps we can continue as friends?”

Geralt nods. “I’d like that.”

“Good. I’m going to be spending some time in Aretuza. If something important comes up, you should be able to reach me there.” She moves towards the door and then stops, turning back to look at Geralt. “Good luck with your bard.”

“Yennefer.”

She raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“Stay safe,” Geralt says. “Nilfgaard… might be targeting the people close to me. They might go after you for that.”

Yennefer gives him a sardonic look. “They have plenty of reasons to target me already, don’t blame yourself for this as well.”

“Hm.”

“See you around, Geralt,” Yennefer says as she pulls the door open and steps outside.

Geralt is left alone, but for the first time, he doesn’t feel bereft at her parting. It is freeing; to know that she is not angry, to be able to part on good terms. Knowing that they will meet again—this time without the secrets and resentments dragging them back into the storm—eases a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Things have been... a lot recently. Hopefully I'll be able to get back to a more regular posting schedule (although I also have three bangs that are ending this month so it may not quite be on a weekly basis). 
> 
> Thank you to Acornsofthemind and CousinCecily for beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> My [tumblr](https://hirikka.tumblr.com/) is here if you ever want to say hi 🌼


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